Pick Up the Pieces
by cato as a pun
Summary: After the events of 'Powerless,' Sylar once again finds himself in control. However, when it comes to a certain geneticist, he finds he may not have as much control as he thought... There will be slash!
1. Shattered Glass

_**Summary:** After the events of 'Powerless,' Sylar finds himself once again in control. However, when it comes to a certain geneticist, he finds that may not have as much control as he thought._

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own 'Heroes' or its characters._

_**Spoilers:** Lets say all of Volumes 1 & 2 to be safe._

_**Warnings:** There will be slash! Oh yeah, and blood. Eventually._

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_**Mohinder Suresh, Molly Walker, Maya Herrera, and Elle Bishop**_

_Lower Manhattan, NY_

Thirty seconds? Ten minutes? Five hours? Mohinder wasn't quite sure how long he'd been stuck kneeling in the same spot, holding the rag stained with Maya's blood and waiting. It seemed like an eternity, just waiting for Elle to get in touch with her father so they could fix the mess now cluttering the loft that had once belonged to the tortured painter.

Molly clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her alive, like if she let go all the evil and hurt in the world would fall in on them and swallow them whole. And, although he felt his air supply being slowly cut off by the tenacity of her tiny arms, he was grateful for some form of affectionate contact. After what had just happened, what he'd just been through, he needed it.

Still, it didn't take away from the tense, awkward heaviness weighing down all the air around him as he, Molly, and Maya sat in silence, each having countless thoughts flitting through his or her mind, but none of them knowing how to go about voicing those thoughts. Instead, they sat avoiding each others gazes, straining to hear Elle's voice as she talked on her cell phone outside the now-glassless front door. All the glass now lay splayed out in shards across the floor after being shattered when a certain serial-killer had fallen through the door, destroying it completely.

More than once, Mohinder caught himself staring at the shattered glass, feeling an indescribable nausea as he wondered; wondered if the man who had quickly and effectively shattered their lives as he had shattered the glass was still alive; waiting once more to strike. Each time, however, he forced himself to shrug off such thoughts telling himself that he needed to be strong for the little girl now resting her head on his shoulder.

Eventually, Elle broke the silence when she re-entered the apartment, looking immensely irritated.

"They're not sending anyone." She spat rather curtly. The girl seemed to have the emotional depth of a seven year old from what Mohinder had seen; she had an unpredictable nature, to say the least. This only furthered the scientist's wariness about her. He'd seen on several occasions what she was capable of, and, while the last time he had she'd been saving his and Molly's lives, he was not about to cross her.

"Not sending anyone? But, what if someone calls the police? Someone has to have heard the shots and-"

Elle adjusted the sling housing her injured arm as she stepped further into the room.

"Apparently they're dealing with something major in Texas. We're on our own."

Mohinder sighed, pulling Molly in closer to him and resting his chin in her hair. With each passing second, he grew more and more tired. How where they supposed to fix this mess?

"On our own?" Maya sounded upset, almost panicked, "what will we do? I—that, that _man_ is out there—"

'That man.' Such a simple phrase, and yet it had elicited from Maya such a clear sounding hatred, one with which Mohinder could easily identify. 'That man.' The one who had just held them all captive, the one who had taken countless innocent lives, the one who had taken Mohinder's father's life. The one who had-

"I don't know. Let's just clean up and get out of here. We'll find my dad and let him deal with it." Elle responded, cutting through Mohinder's thoughts. Although, it didn't provide much by way of hope or answers, it was a welcome interruption. The way his mind had tended to wander lately could only serve to get him in even more trouble than that in which he already found himself.

"Fine." He stood up, finally dropping the blood-soaked rag and adjusting Molly in his arms, picking up his bag from the floor. He was about to head into the back room to start gathering his research when he felt a tug on his arm. He turned to face Maya who looked at him fearfully.

"Doctor… I… I need help. I have hurt so many people, and now Alejandro—I have no one. Will you please-?"

Mohinder couldn't help but smile to himself. She was the one with the power, and yet here she was, begging _him_ for help. Her earnestness, her fearfulness almost reminded him of-

"Maya, you have my assurances that I will do everything I can to help you. I can hardly imagine what you've been through of late, but I promise I'll do what I can to help."

She beamed at him, clutching his hand to her chest in appreciation.

There it was again: that grateful smile that reminded him of his biggest mistake. But then again, everything reminded him these days.

_**Sylar**_

_Lower Manhattan, NY_

Adrenaline raced through his veins, coursing up and down his body at a rate he hadn't experienced in all too long. They were back.

His abilities, each beautiful one was back. Of course, he'd tested telekinesis first; it was, after all, his first acquired ability, and his most-loved at that. It had proven time and again to be of utmost value to him, easing his many tasks, including the gathering of the many other gifts he'd since collected. Without it, he'd almost felt that empty uselessness that he'd carried throughout his entire existence as the watchmaker's son, the cold, biting mediocrity of Gabriel Gray.

Of course, he'd known better than to give up on himself. He hadn't become the man he had by doing so, and stumbling upon the two most desperate people he'd ever come across only further convinced him of his destiny. They were running, as the girl had no control whatsoever over her 'gift,' a gift, Sylar decided, she was no more deserving of than any of the other weak people he had encountered before her. Maya, Isaac, the waitress in Texas… they were all the same. Pathetic. Undeserving.

It was his destiny to take and make use of what they couldn't, and this could have been made no clearer than when Maya and her joke of a brother had run right into him, begging for help. They were looking for Doctor Suresh… how serendipitous. Two birds with one stone. It was almost too deliciously perfect.

He needed to see the good doctor too, for more reasons than one. Of course, there was the upsetting little problem with his abilities, which he was sure Suresh could help him with. But, more importantly, Sylar had a score to settle.

Their last face-to-face confrontation before Kirby Plaza had been… less than satisfactory on Sylar's end. It had ended with a near win against the nuisance that was Peter Petrelli being interrupted by a rather unfortunate map attack from Mohinder. Then of course, there had been Kirby Plaza, where the ever-courageous doctor had watched from the sidelines while Sylar was impaled by some irritating little Japanese man (who, by the way, was _so_ going to get it.) And finally, their most recent meeting, with the whole stabbing attempt that lasted all of half a second. The doctor was determined, not stupid.

Even if he was, however, Sylar would not have been any more worried for his life. Mohinder was predictable; always wanting to do 'the right thing.' Even when it went against everything he stood for, he was willing to do it. Except, of course, when it came to Sylar.

No, when it came to Sylar, there was that hesitation. It normally only lasted for an instant, but it was enough. That flash of something in the geneticist's eyes that signified there was something holding him back, something that made him doubt his own actions; something Sylar was all too pleased to take advantage of.

Now that he had his powers back, he would make Suresh pay. Sylar had been nothing but kind to him, offering him chance after chance to give him what he wanted, but Mohinder had taken the hard road. Now, he would lose everything, and Sylar would completely reclaim what was rightfully his.

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_Hi all! This is my first fic in months; I haven't written a thing since my Petrellific ended. Needless to say, I'm a bit nervous! It was much harder for me to get in Mohinder and Sylar's heads, but I hope you like it anyway._

_**Just a warning**: This is rated 'T' for now just to be safe, but I may have to change it to 'M' later on for violence and boy-on-boy love._


	2. Biding Time

_**Note: **Rating is still 'T', but this may well be the last chapter rated as such._

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_**Mohinder Suresh, Molly Walker, Maya Herrera, and Elle Bishop**_

_Lower Manhattan, New York_

After he had promised Maya that he would help her as best he could, Mohinder had gone into the back room to start gathering his supplies, only to be immediately interrupted when Elle rushed in, looking impatient.

"What are you doing, Suresh? We need to go!"

"But—my research-"

She'd only leered at him in response, turning on her heel and leaving the room. Not wanting to end up on the receiving end of her wrath, he sighed and followed.

Not to say that he wasn't happy to leave the apartment turned lab, because he was. As he went to pick up Molly once again, his eyes traced the disaster around him, immediately drawing him back into his thoughts.

This place, seemingly harmless to the naïve eye, was nothing more or less than a death trap. It reeked of misery and suffering, as more than once it had been the site of devastation. Mohinder thought the broken glass suited it nicely, exposing it for what it was. As though the rather disturbing mural painted across the floor wasn't enough, the glass gave it that extra touch that said 'Death was here.'

"Doctor Suresh?" once again, Mohinder's meandering thoughts were interrupted when Maya, looking at him with concern, spoke his name. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Please… call me Mohinder."

She smiled, nodding. Mohinder didn't much like being called 'Dr. Suresh' these days. It brought up too many issues from his past that he'd rather not think about now. The first issue being that 'Dr. Suresh' was his father. There weren't enough words, in either English or Tamil, to describe the numerous conflicting emotions Chandra's memory brought to light, even after the many months that had already passed since his death. Then, of course, there was the fact that Sylar seemed to revel in calling Mohinder 'Doctor,' knowing very well that it struck a nerve in the man. The way he'd say the word, with a sarcastic smile plastered on his face, was like mockery personified. It caused such a burning detestation in Mohinder; something no one and nothing else had ever managed to make him feel. Only Sylar.

As he, Molly, and a clearly terrified Maya followed Elle out of the loft and out to the cold, bustling New York City sidewalk, Mohinder glanced around, really noticing the outside world for the first time in months. It was almost a shock to him, seeing all the people around him going about their days as though everything were entirely normal. Of course, to them, everything was. They were blessed with naiveté; they didn't have to live with the knowledge that somewhere among them, Death was waiting.

_**Sylar**_

_Lower Manhattan, New York_

Ahh, the streets of New York. Sylar was happy to be home after weeks of driving through an endless country with no one but the girl and her brother to keep him company. Even the litter and constant noise were welcome changes from a crowded car and cheap motels.

Of course, the best part about being home was that it meant he was that much closer to achieving what he'd planned so carefully in all those never-ending days trapped in the passenger seat, watching a landscape that couldn't pass away fast enough.

He took in everything about his surroundings as he made his way down the sidewalk; the many storefronts painted with delicate lettering announcing this sale or that, an overcrowded coffee shop from which wafted an intoxicating scent and the soft, pleasant murmur of many voices, a mother passing by him pushing a stroller in front of her. Each occurrence was delicious in its own way, amplified by his pleasure at finally having his abilities back. Everything was simply… _better_.

The back of his jacket was singed, after having been hit by electricity so stupidly hurled at him by the blonde in Isaac's apartment, and people were giving him strange looks as he passed. He'd deal with it later, though, once certain more pressing matters were taken care of.

He hadn't run far from Isaac's building before turning down the alley in which he'd injected himself with the 'cure anything' blood, so he had only a short walk back. Now that he had his abilities back, Maya and the blonde would be easy enough to handle, and once they were out of the way, he'd have Mohinder right where he wanted him. Alone. Vulnerable. Once again at Sylar's mercy.

The killer couldn't help but smile to himself just thinking about it, he itched with anticipation. The plan ended there, but he would improvise. Mohinder had betrayed him, and would soon be making up for it.

He heard them before he saw them. Mohinder, Maya, Molly and the (soon to be dead) blonde were across the street, walking hurriedly towards a sedan parked along the sidewalk opposite him; completely unaware that he was anywhere near. He took a step back, standing in the shadows of an alley to avoid being spotted, but thanks to the return of his enhanced hearing, he didn't have to strain to hear their conversation.

"—drive back to my dad's office. We'll tell him what happened." said the blonde. Sylar cringed at her voice; there was something so irritating about her, beyond the laughable fact that she'd thought _she _could kill _him_. She sounded so sure of herself, so in charge as she walked ahead of the others, talking more to herself than to them. She was definitely on his list. It didn't help her much that he found the prospect of being able to shoot lightning from his hands more than a bit intriguing.

"Yes," the smooth accent of the geneticist responded, causing Sylar to focus more intently, "but I'll have to come back eventually. I can't leave everything just sitting there available for anyone to find."

_Of course. Wouldn't want that, would we?_

The blonde groaned in audible aggravation as she unlocked the doors of the car and got into the front seat.

"Whatever." She retorted before slamming her door shut. Sylar winced; okay, so enhanced hearing had a downside or two.

"Mohinder—" Molly was in the process of getting into the backseat, but stopped and turned to the man standing on the sidewalk beside her, "I can find him… so we know where he is."

_Find him—? Shit. _When his presence was discovered, it would be on his terms, not on anyone else's.

Sylar could hear Mohinder hesitate, holding his breath as he considered the little girl's proposal.

"No… that's not your responsibility. Just sit, we'll find him later."

Sylar smirked. It was another perfect example of how Mohinder was weak; he let his emotions get the better of him, keeping him from using every tool at his disposal. Of course, it worked out for Sylar, but it amused him nonetheless.

After Mohinder and Maya had piled into the car, the engine started and they disappeared down the street, leaving the hidden killer to his thoughts. He was almost frustrated with himself for letting them get away, but that would've meant dealing with all the other people on the street; way more effort than it was worth.

So, now he would wait patiently until the doctor was once again within his reach.

_**Mohinder Suresh, Molly Walker, Maya Herrera, Bob and Elle Bishop**_

_Hartsdale, New York_

"What were you thinking?" Bob was furious, leering down at his daughter as she explained to him exactly what had happened. She'd told him earlier on the phone in vague terms only, apparently neglecting to include the fact that she had tried, and failed, to defeat the world's most deadly serial killer on her own.

"I was thinking that you'd appreciate me stopping Sylar—!"

"But you didn't. Did you?"

Mohinder felt for Elle on a basic level; he understood what it was like to be seen as a disappointment in the eyes of one's father. He'd been on the receiving end of such disappointment more times than he'd like to remember.

He watched her with dark, sympathetic eyes as she turned and stormed down the hall, not even bothering to argue.

Bob looked in exasperation at Mohinder, Molly and Maya.

"This changes everything." He said simply.

Mohinder wanted badly to scream in Bob's face "This is your fault! You were the ones who allowed him to live!" but decided against it, seeing as he and Molly were much safer with the Company on their side than they would be alone. So, instead of making a scene, the doctor nodded and opted to change the subject.

"I need to call Matt—"

"I don't think you'll be able to get in contact with him at the moment." Bob didn't even look at Mohinder as he spoke, he was too busy looking through a file he had been holding through his tirade with Elle. He looked tired, distracted… what was it they were dealing with that could keep his mind from the fact that Sylar was out there, cured and most likely looking for revenge? What could be more important?

"Why? Is he all right?" Mohinder shot a worried glance at Molly whose eyes were already shut tight in search of her other guardian.

"He's fine. Busy."

Molly's eyes opened, and she nodded, signaling that Matt did in fact seem to be fine. But, this did little to appease Mohinder's growing anticipation. Sylar was back. He was back and no one seemed to be doing anything about it.

"I need to go back to the lab and gather my research—"

"We'll send someone to do that for you. You'll continue your work here."

"I'd rather do it myself."

Finally, Bob's eyes lifted from the paper in his hands to meet Mohinder's.

"And I'd rather you wouldn't. You're far too valuable to us to send you right into Sylar's path."

Mohinder felt his stomach constrict.

"He got what he wanted from me… the cure for the virus with which you injected him. He has no reason to go back. Anyway, you've got a camera system set up to keep an eye on things while I'm there… I'd like to leave Molly here though. She needs her rest."

Was he lying? No. He believed it… mostly. Sylar really didn't have much reason to return to the loft…

Bob let out a sigh of irritation.

"Fine," he stated as he turned to walk away, "but take a gun."

A gun. Right.

"Mohinder—" Molly protested, looking up at him with worried eyes. He smiled at her as reassuringly as he could, kneeling so they were face to face.

"You have nothing to worry about. You'll be just fine here, I won't be gone long. I promise."

He hugged her close, kissing her hair and brushing his fingers across her cheek.

"Let me find him." She whispered.

Mohinder once again considered it. Most of him wanted to let her do it as it was the only real way to placate his nervousness since using Molly' ability was basically the only way to know where the killer was, being that he had learned to hide himself well. But some part of Mohinder didn't want to know. He told himself it was because he didn't want to drag the little girl into a situation she didn't need to be a part of, but he knew that was only a fraction of it. Some twisted, broken part of him almost wished the other man _was _waiting at the loft for him. Almost.

"No. You just rest." He responded finally. She looked disappointed but nodded, hugging him tightly around the neck again.

As he stood up, he turned to Maya.

"You should stay here, too. You've been through a great deal today."

She hesitated but shook her head.

"Please, I would like to go with you. Please."

He knew he shouldn't let her, but then again, Sylar had 'no reason to go back,' right?

_**Mohinder Suresh and Maya Herrera**_

_Lower Manhattan, New York_

They sat in the car, looking up at the building, both secretly dreading what might be found inside.

"I'll just run in and get my things, you can wait here for now." He said, unbuckling his seatbelt and breaking the tense silence that had filled the car since they left Hartford.

"What kind of a man is he? What kind of a person can do things like he does?"

Mohinder froze, sideswiped by Maya's question. It was clear that she wasn't really asking him, she was speaking it to the Universe. Apparently, their minds were stuck on the same subject.

He tried to think of a response but came up blank. Every conflicting emotion and thought that arose every time Sylar was brought up had his tongue tied. He didn't need to respond, however, because she kept going.

"He lied to me… I—I thought he cared about me."

If Mohinder wasn't uncomfortable before, he was now. He knew exactly what that was like, but he wasn't exactly one to talk about his feelings. He stuck with what he understood.

"Maya, I—"

"He killed my brother. He kissed me and promised to help me, and then he killed Alejandro. What kind of man…?"

God, what he would've given not to have heard that. He wanted nothing more than to get out of there and go back to fearing and hating the man who could be lurking around any corner. Why wouldn't she stop?

"I—I don't know," he started lamely, trying not to sound too much like he was just brushing her off, "I'm so sorry."

He watcher her as she nodded, wiping her tear-filled eyes.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm just so—"

He reached out and touched a reassuring hand to her shoulder.

"I know. You don't have to apologize."

She smiled appreciatively, and he took the opportunity to finally exit the car.

Once outside, he took a second to inhale deeply. The air had been thick in the small space, suffocating him, and now his head was spinning.

Only a short time earlier, he had been on his way to helping someone who needed it, on his way to fix something that was under his control. Things weren't great, but they weren't like _this_.

As he made his way up to his lab, he felt a tightening apprehension in the pit of his stomach. What _would_ he find? What did he _want_ to find? Which would be worse: a serial killer waiting for his return or an empty room?

Forcing himself to push all thoughts aside (and hating himself for even thinking them) he walked through the glass and looked in through the front door.

He felt himself breathe out heavily as he saw that the apartment was just as they had left it. Empty and yet full of destruction.

He almost laughed at himself as he swung open what was left of the frame and stepped inside. What had he been expecting—?

"Welcome back, Doctor."

Ice shot up Mohinder's spine with those three, simple words. He turned slowly, feeling his throat close up and his stomach twist into knots again.

Sylar was there, lounging comfortably on what had been Isaac's bed and smiling at him. That mocking smile.

"I was waiting for you."


	3. One Word

_**Mohinder Suresh and Sylar**_

_Lower Manhattan, New York_

Mohinder was frozen. He couldn't talk. He couldn't turn and run. All he could do was stare back at the eyes now boring into him, waiting for a response.

"What?" Sylar smiled, standing up from the bed, "not happy to see me again?"

Still, the Indian stood paralyzed. He could've sworn that the other man had some sort of telekinetic hold on him, but it was all him. All fear. All apprehension. All confliction.

Sylar slumped his shoulders, feigning disappointment as he took a step towards the statue that was the geneticist.

"Really, Mohinder? Nothing?"

After a moment, Mohinder somehow managed to sputter a sentence.

"What are you doing here?"

Sylar's smile spread further across his face as he stepped closer still to the doctor, who, in turn, stumbled backwards.

"See, I'm not so hard to talk to am I?"

Mohinder's mind was racing. He had to get out, he had to run, he had to scream or do something, but he couldn't. He hated himself more than ever for being such a coward, but all he could do was stare.

Once again, Sylar stopped and shook his head.

"Since when are you the silent type? It's not like you, Mohinder."

"You don't know me well enough to know that, do you?"

In one swift moment, Sylar had cleared the space dividing them and had the doctor pinned against the wall, one cold hand pressed to the dark skin of his neck.

"I know you better than anyone else alive." He hissed into the other man's ear, making sure to place the proper emphasis on the word 'alive.'

Mohinder pressed his eyes shut wishing more than anything that this wasn't happening. His neck felt like it was on fire where Sylar was touching him, and even he knew it wasn't some stolen ability that was burning him. It was something else; something worse.

His heart was in his throat, and, as a last act of desperation, he shoved a hand into his bag and pulled out the gun he'd bee instructed to bring and pressed it to Sylar's side.

He opened his eyes in time to see the taller man smile down at the gun in his hand.

"Aw, Mohinder. You hate me that much?" he laughed, not removing his hand from the doctor's throat, but loosening his grip slightly, "Didn't work so well before, now did it?"

Mohinder felt like an idiot, but didn't lower the weapon. Sylar just continued to smile at him, knowing full well that, regardless of whether or not pulling the trigger would be effective at all, Mohinder would never be able to do so.

"God you're predictable… that certainly hasn't changed—"

"What are you doing here?" Mohinder asked again, speaking through gritted teeth, "You're cured. You could've gone anywhere else in the world. Why here?"

He hadn't even bothered trying to pull away from the firm hand holding him in place, and he had to keep telling himself it was due to the futility of trying to get away, even though every inch of him knew better.

Sylar hesitated. For a split second, Mohinder could've sworn he looked rather like a deer in headlights—

"Are you really questioning me, Mohinder," he snarled after a second, "you owe me. Remember?"

"Remember what, exactly? That you killed my father? Or perhaps that-?" he stopped, feeling the long fingers tighten once more around his throat.

"You _know_ what I meant. That special little ingredient you added to that tea… the tuning fork, and my favorite, the spinal tap… you know, that didn't feel too great."

"You—you came all the way back for that..? I'm flattered." Mohinder spoke through ragged breaths.

"You should be," Sylar looked directly at Mohinder, something in his expression changing as he leaned in and whispered into his ear "Doctor."

X X X X X

Sylar kept his mouth close to Mohinder's ear for a moment before slowly pulling back and running his eyes across the other man's face. The doctor's eyes were shut tight and he was biting his upper lip while his body stiffened beneath the killer's grip.

While his prey remained still, Sylar removed his hand from his neck, sliding it down a tense arm and pulling the gun from the Indian's grip, tossing it to the bed.

"I gave you all the chances in the world… I trusted you… and you betrayed me."

"I betrayed _you_? You told me you were Zane Taylor, a man you murdered! And _I _betrayed _you_?"

"Yes." The killer stated flatly, shaking his head slowly as if to say 'Duh.' He heard the other man gulp as his heart rate shot up in fear, but when he spoke, he did so smoothly. Sylar was almost impressed.

"So… you're here to kill me?"

He considered this. Yes, he had planned on it (or wanted Mohinder to think he had…) but something the doctor had said was now bothering him, keeping him from his previous goal.

"_You're cured. You could've gone anywhere else in the world. Why here_?" It had hit Sylar in the face like a baseball bat, and he'd almost not been quick enough to respond. Was some normal, not-at-all-special man worth all the time and effort Sylar had put into finding him again? Why had Sylar's thoughts been centered around getting back at Mohinder since he'd killed the illusionist? Why hadn't he killed him during one of the many opportunities he'd had to do so?

He didn't want to dwell on it.

"No. Not yet, anyway."

"You may as well. Whatever it is you're after, I won't help you get it."

"What is it you think I'm after, exactly?" Sylar sneered, piercing dark eyes boring into the soft brown of Mohinder's.

It was the doctor's turn to hesitate; he looked away, inching slowly from the man in front of him.

"I don't know… but you're not going to get it."

"Who said I wanted anything from _you_?" snapped the taller man, grabbing Mohinder's shoulder and forcing him to make eye contact.

All time seemed to stop; he was back in Montana, playing the role of the helpless, nervous, innocent Zane Taylor. It was an irritating role to fill, it reminded him too much of Gabriel Gray, but Mohinder made it worth the effort. Sidelong glances as the car sped down the freeway, shoulder touches that lasted just a second too long, and of course, that night. _The_ night. It had happened only once, and had been quick and sloppy at best, but it had meant something. And now, months later, it was still there, keeping Sylar from doing what he had wanted so badly to do. All that time, and here he was, seeing it all again, just as though it had happened only yesterday. It made his blood boil that he'd become so weak, that he'd let his guard down enough to let some meaningless man affect him in such a way. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was Sylar, the most dangerous man alive. He wasn't supposed to _care_.

Luckily, that's when he heard it. Footsteps.

He quickly snapped his attention towards the front windows of the loft, turning from Mohinder and focusing on the sound. Slow hesitant footsteps, rapid, fearful heartbeat—

"Dr. Suresh..? Mohinder?!" Ah yes, _Maya_.

"Maya—" the doctor tried to warn her, stepping past Sylar towards the door, but the killer reacted quickly, cupping a hand over his mouth and slamming him once more into the wall. He raised a finger to his own lips, signaling for silence.

"Don't make me change my mind about killing you." He whispered, turning back to the windows as the girl's footsteps got closer. He held Mohinder in place telekinetically and hid himself from her view until she'd stepped through the door.

"Dr. Suresh didn't tell me you where here!" he held out his arms in mock surprise, using his sweetest voice, knowing it would irk her. She was too easy.

She froze on the spot, much as Mohinder had done earlier, her eyes widening in terror as she took in the sight before her. Her eyes jumped from Sylar to Mohinder then back again.

"You," she was trying to sound brave, but it didn't work. He could _hear_ her panic, "let him go."

"No. I don't think I will."

"You're a monster." She murmured, already starting to cry. This was something Sylar had found to be most annoying about her through the many weeks he'd been stuck in a car with her; the girl cried at the drop of a hat. She had no spine, and it only increased his desire to be rid of her.

She stepped closer to him, and he saw it. Her eyes were painted black with toxin, and before he had time to react, he felt it seep into his lungs and veins, filling him with poison. It was like drowning from the inside out.

_She really needs to knock that off._

From behind him, he heard Mohinder groan and turned to see him crumpled on the floor, telekinesis no longer holding him up, and his eyes bleeding black.

The stupid girl. Her power was so out of control that she was killing the very person she was trying to save. Mohinder was Sylar's to do with what he pleased, and no sad excuse for a human being was going to take that from him.

"Stop that Maya. Now." He warned, falling to the ground himself. Of course she didn't, she only stepped closer to him, leering through black-stained tears.

He raised a hand to her, willing his mind to stop her, but the poison was overwhelming his abilities. It hurt to breathe, which wouldn't be a problem for much longer, because his lungs were almost full now.

"Stop." He repeated, though softer now. He didn't like this feeling, being at the mercy of someone else. It wasn't right, and he'd be sure to pay Maya back tenfold.

"You killed Alejandro." She hissed, not relenting. She didn't even care that she was killing Mohinder she was so bent on revenge.

Sylar turned once again to look at the doctor, who was now sprawled out on the concrete floor, gasping for air. A new flood of anger surged though the killer, and he returned his gaze to Maya shooting his hand up once more. This time it worked.

She flew backwards, crashing hard into the wall behind her and collapsing on the ground. Immediately, he felt the poison receding from his body and he scrambled to his feet, moving to stand over her. She was out cold.

"Nice try."

He smiled down at her cataleptic form, more than slightly excited at the thought of gaining such an effortlessly destructive ability to add to his already impressive repertoire. He raised an index finger, pointed it at her forehead, and… was interrupted by a soft whimper from behind him.

"Don't." Mohinder looked up at him from the floor with pleading eyes, looking as though it was taking all the energy he had left not to pass out where he was.

Sylar chose to ignore him, turning back to the pathetic human on the ground before him, raising his finger once more—

"Don't."   
Again. The man was nothing if not persistent, but it seemed it took too much out of him to talk because as he spoke, he let his head fall back to rest on the floor as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Sylar sighed, rolling his eyes and cursing. He wanted nothing more than to rip the girl's head open, watch the blood spill around her and take her ability. He'd waited long enough to do so, he'd suffered several times from her pitiable lack of control, and now he wanted to have it for his own.

But, that contemptible tugging in his stomach was insistent, distracting. There was nothing standing in his way any longer, and yet there he was, unable to just do it. Not because he felt at all bad for her; she was merely another worthless, undeserving accident of nature. No, it was that single word 'Don't.' One word, and he had actually stopped.

This all seemed so much simpler not an hour ago, when he had been waiting patiently for the Doctor's arrival. Kill Mohinder. Kill Maya. Kill the blonde. Find Petrelli and the Japanese man, and kill them too. Easy enough.

But then he'd made the fatal mistake of looking at Mohinder and actually _seeing_ him again. He'd promised himself he wouldn't, and had failed miserably. Gabriel may have been used to failure, but Sylar was not, and he didn't appreciate the feeling. Not at all.

_Damn you, Mohinder._


	4. Giving In

_**Note: **The rating HAS been changed to 'M,' just a warning. Happy reading _

* * *

_**Mohinder Suresh and Sylar**_

_Brooklyn, New York_

Mohinder woke feeling stiff and groggy. His arms felt like they were made of lead and his head was pounding.

_That was quite the bad dream…_

He sat up slowly, only then registering that he was in his bedroom, sprawled out rather uncomfortably on top of his blankets. It was dark, and he glanced at the red neon numbers of his alarm clock. _8:43 PM_.

Still half asleep, he stumbled out of bed and left the room, wiping his eyes as he reached the kitchen. As he opened them again, he noticed the light on, and his gaze fell immediately on the small table where Sylar was now lounging back in a chair, his feet propped up on the table as he stared off into nothing.

Mohinder felt his stomach drop as his heartbeat skipped and then took off at one hundred miles an hour.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed. Sylar's head snapped to him, looking almost as though he were surprised. But, Mohinder knew he wasn't. He'd heard the minute his breathing pattern had changed when he woke.

He sneered and shrugged.

"Where else would I go?"

"Anywhere. I'd think after you killed Maya you'd be out on a celebratory slaughter."

Sylar didn't respond, just returned his eyes to the place they'd been focused when Mohinder found him.

"Get out." The doctor tried to let as little of his fear flow out of him with the words, but found it incredibly difficult. He was alone in a dark apartment with a vengeful, super-powered serial killer with absolutely no way to defend himself. Fear was a bit on the 'unavoidable' side.

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

Sylar moved smoothly out of his chair, returning his attention to Mohinder as he rested his hands on the edge of the table.

"No," he repeated, "I don't want to."

"Are you kidding me? Is this a game to you? How could you possibly think that its alright for you to even be here after all you've done?"

The killer smirked at this, stepping away from the table and beginning to move toward where Mohinder was standing.

"Wanna know something?"

The Indian felt his throat tense up. No, he didn't want to 'know something.' He wanted Sylar gone; he wanted never to see him again, but he most certainly did not want to 'know something.'

Of course, the other man continued anyway. He stopped walking only when he was mere inches in front of Mohinder and stared intently at him.

"I _did_ come back to kill you. I came all the way across the country just to kill you."

Not that the doctor was surprised at this, he wasn't _that _naïve, but hearing it out loud effectively made him numb and sent his mind off in a thousand different directions.

_I'm dead. I'm dead. What about Molly? What about Nikki? What about Matt and all the others who would certainly be next…?Why is he telling me this?_

He stumbled backwards, but with each step he took away from Sylar, Sylar matched with his own towards Mohinder. He felt like a cornered animal, staring into the eyes of its captor with nowhere to run.

"But, when it came down to it, I couldn't. Tell me why."

_What?_

Mohinder was blindsided. He suddenly wished Sylar _would_ kill him, anything would be better than having to dwell on what he'd just said.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He muttered, doing his best to sound as though he was telling the truth.

"Don't you?" once again, the killer had backed Mohinder into a wall, and he reached out, tugging gently on a soft, dark curl. He observed it as it fell back into place, and smiled when the other man pulled his head away from his hand.

"No. Get out."

"Come on Mohinder," Sylar placed one hand on either side of the doctor, leaning over enough so that they were eye to eye, "Is that the thanks I get for making sure you got home safely?"

_Safely_. Had he not currently been in fear for his life, among other things, Mohinder may have laughed at the irony. A serial killer had made sure 'he got home safely.' Rich.

"After you killed another innocent woman, you mean?"

Sylar pulled away, standing up straight and crossing his arms across his chest.

"Making assumptions isn't very scientific of you, Doctor."

"I needn't assume anything. You're a murderer; it's what you do."

Sylar merely scoffed at this, shaking his head.

"Okay."

They stood in silence for a moment, each uncertain of what to say or do next. Mohinder's eyes darted from the front door to Sylar and back again. _If he could just get away…_

"For weeks I planned it out… _weeks_. I had everything right where I wanted it to be… I could've done it. So, tell me why I didn't. Tell me why I failed."

His voice was softer, no longer the caustic tone Mohinder had long equated with death itself. It was confused, uncertain, almost to the point of vulnerability. It was _Zane._

"…I don't know…"

Sylar put one hand on the wall just above the doctor's shoulder and leaned closer again. Their eyes met, and immediately, Mohinder felt his heart jump into his throat.

_No, no, no, no… Please, just kill me…_

"Why do you keep saying that?" Sylar reached out and brushed his hand against the soft skin of the Indian's jaw, then traced it down until he reached the spot on his chest where his heart was, "when I can hear that you do, in fact, _know_?"

Mohinder felt as every nerve in his body lit up with such a white-hot heat, he was surprised he didn't spontaneously combust right there.

That touch was so familiar, so longed for, and yet hated. He wanted it more than anything, but would rather die than indulge in it anymore.

"Don't…" Mohinder pulled his eyes away from the other man's and focused again on the front door. Sylar frowned at this, moving his hand back up to hold the doctor's chin and bringing his deep brown eyes back to his own.

"Why?"

"You're sick."

"So are you."

_Touché. _

Before he could register what was happening, Mohinder felt Sylar's lips pressed roughly against his own, and without thinking, he immediately started kissing back, reveling in the other man's taste.

Every thought and emotion that had only an instant before threatened to tear him in half was gone, replaced with only his long-repressed desire.

His starving fingers quickly found their way to the other man's hair and face, drinking in the softness; a softness he remembered well.

Every familiar taste, smell, and feeling overwhelmed all the negativity within him, and his defenses fell. They had already been difficult to maintain, so being caught up in kiss he'd secretly dreamt about for months quickly depleted them.

He shivered as he felt Sylar's lips move slowly down his jaw line to his neck, leaving soft, tiny, teasing kisses on every inch of bare skin he could find. He paused only when he reached the base of Mohinder's neck.

"Mohinder…" it was more of a plea than the simple whisper of a name. The killer's lips pressed gently once again to the caramel skin of the doctor's neck as his hands combed though wild black hair.

Chills shot up the doctor's spine as hundreds of invisible hands caressed him all over, suddenly awakening him to just who it was he was currently with.

"…stop…" he whispered, wanting to, but not really meaning it. He pulled his hands back, resting them at his sides and trying not to be so turned on by the other man's touch.

This was wrong. So wrong on so many levels, and yet every inch of him screamed for it. He'd fallen into this trap before, he knew it could only end badly, and yet he was willing to be used.

For months he'd distracted himself, keeping as busy as was humanly possible, because it meant that his mind didn't have the time to linger on the man now planting small, tickling kisses along his jaw.

After Kirby Plaza, he'd assumed Sylar was dead, but that hadn't provided him with as much comfort as it should have. It had left him with a terrible, unspeakable guilt that he could neither explain nor overcome.

Of course, living with a telepath hadn't done anything to make it easier. All too often, Mohinder would snap out of a rampant daydream and find himself leering at Matt with accusing eyes, wondering if he'd heard; wondering if he knew.

In a weak attempt to avoid such problems, he'd decided to bury himself and his thoughts and feelings into helping Bennet and then the Company. Unfortunately, burying those feelings hadn't killed them, and now as Sylar's hands trailed up his torso, they were back in a big way.

"You don't mean that." was Sylar's simple reply.

Of course he knew, he always knew.

X X X X X

Sylar's mind was all over the place, quite literally. It was an exciting new rush for him, finally being able to put his most treasured talent to such a pleasing use. He'd wanted to do so the last time, but had been inhibited by the fact that Zane Taylor was not blessed with telekinesis.

But now, he no longer needed to pretend. He allowed it to brush gently across the other man's skin while he busied his hands and mouth exploring Mohinder's neck and hair.

He rather liked the nape of the Indian's neck, it was sinfully soft and welcoming and, as he kissed it again, it reminded him of the cold Montana night he'd spent resting his head in the spot. It was a lifetime ago, it seemed, but he remembered. Of course, he'd die before admitting that to anyone, especially Mohinder.

The doctor had 'asked him to stop.' Sylar knew he'd said it mostly to make himself feel better; the man was ruled by his guilt. Anyway, sensitive ears could hear the fast beating heart, the one whose beat matched Sylar's own. Not quick with fear, but with _craving_.

Mohinder was now standing stiff and still, refusing to give in again.

"You're so stubborn." Sylar breathed directly into his ear.

"I said 'stop'."

Mohinder's games were getting old, and Sylar didn't exactly have the time or patience to keep playing.

He pulled back quickly, grabbing the cloth of Mohinder's shirt and twisting it, knocking him forcefully into the wall behind him before pulling him up so they were face to face again. The doctor's brown eyes were wide, fearful.

"You can't pretend with me Mohinder, you never could." He whispered angrily, speaking through gritted teeth. "You think I didn't notice that you left Maya in the car when you came into the loft? That you left the little girl somewhere else? You _knew_ I'd be there… you _hoped_ I'd be there."

"No…" the doctor whimpered, shaking his head and closing his eyes, no doubt hoping that pretending he was elsewhere would make it so. The man was so torn it was upsetting.

"Yes. You're no idiot, Doctor. You knew—"

What happened next took even Sylar by surprise. Mohinder grabbed him and pulled him in close, kissing him with such force he wondered if his lips would bruise. Not that the killer minded much.

He immediately pressed himself hungrily against the Indian, no longer bothering to be gentle. He took a fistful of dark curls in his hand, pulling on them roughly as he slid his tongue in to taste Mohinder's.

He didn't necessarily like that he wanted and needed this so bad, but it wasn't worth pretending anymore. He'd worry about it later, when the other man's hands were no longer clinging to him quite so tightly. Those hands that were currently sliding their way up under Sylar's shirt, after already having unzipped the jacket that had previously blocked their path. Sylar finished the job for him, pulling off the singed black jacket and tossing it to the floor.

Almost as one, they carefully made their way into the bedroom, still feeling each other up as they did. It was almost as though they feared that one second without touching one another would bring them crashing back down to reality. It was safer to stay caught up in the moment.

Sylar eagerly backed Mohinder onto the bed, feeling as his poorly masked excitement pressed uncomfortably against the unyielding denim of his pants.

As the taller man climbed to lie on top of the other, he nibbled his ear then gently grazed his jaw with teasing lips.

Mohinder's own hardness was now pushing up against Sylar's inner thigh, and as he stretched out one of the darker man's arms, pinning it to the bed just above his head, he felt the other hand tugging clumsily at the buttons of his shirt.

All too eager to help, he released the pinned hand, instead nuzzling Mohinder's cheek with his own. He was careful not to be too rough near the bandaged part of his nose; for once, no part of him wished any harm on the doctor. In fact, it was the last thing he wanted.

Instead, he playfully bit his lower lip, letting his mind tear open Mohinder's deep red shirt, exposing the smooth caramel skin beneath. It was too much for Sylar to resist.

In an instant, every part of him that could, hands, lips, tongue, nose, explored the doctor's chest, sending them both into an even more hurried, feverish frenzy.

With one thought, Mohinder's pants were unbuttoned and Mohinder, having just managed to undo the last button of the killer's shirt, pulled him in and kissed him deeply as Sylar let it slip off his shoulders and fall on the bed beside him.

While dark hands raced longingly up and down ivory skin, Sylar leaned in close to the other man's ear, whispering as he spoke.

"I told you; you knew."

X X X X X

Mohinder couldn't stop touching Sylar. The softness of his skin, the warmth of his breath, the feel of him pressing up against his leg was almost too much to bear.

His fingers trailed down Sylar's stomach, fumbling with the clasp of his pants until, success, it was undone.

He pulled on them desperately, feeling his own need increase with each passing second. When he had given in, he had given in entirely, and now every inch of him needed to feel the other man against him.

Sylar helped him once more, telekinetically ripping away their remaining articles of clothing and sending them flying into a pile on the floor.

Now completely exposed to each other, they once again clashed burning lips together as Sylar repositioned himself between Mohinder's thighs.

Mohinder moved his hands up Sylar's back, resting them on sleek shoulders as he leaned up to suck roughly on the other man's throat. He heard as Sylar spit into his hand, preparing himself for the mutually needed union. Before the man did, however, he stopped again, looking down at Mohinder.

"You know I didn't kill her, don't you?"

Mohinder smiled, nodding.

"Yes."

As soon as the word had left his mouth, he felt as Sylar pushed himself roughly inside, forcing Mohinder to arch his back as his body adjusted to the sudden intrusion.

X X X X X

A deep moan escaped the darker man's throat as Sylar braced himself, taking one of the Indian's shoulders in one of his hands and resting his other on the bed. He quickly began to thrust, taking in all the intensity of the moment, feeling as Mohinder tightened then relaxed again beneath him.

As he moved in and out, he watched Mohinder's face closely. He watched as he bit his lower lip, getting drunk with rapture. He watched as the moonlight from the window beside them played across his dark features, casting him in a silver glow. He watched as small beads of sweat formed across his brow then slid down his skin, disappearing into his hair. All this he watched and wanted more; he wanted so bad to please.

Mohinder let another moan slip into the quiet dark between them, and it was like fuel for Sylar. The quivering tone excited him further, and he rocked his hips faster wanting to elicit as many soft, bliss-ridden sounds from the man beneath him as he could.

He, of course, refused to show any form of weakness in this case, so every time he felt a moan try to leave his own tense throat, he'd swallow hard and bite his lip; fighting for any last ounce of control he could muster.

With each thrust he entered deeper and deeper, his own passion stimulating Mohinder in such a way that he came first, clenching the bed sheets tightly as he arched up, calling out in euphoria.

The sound, blended with the fast pulsing of his heartbeat, and pounded loudly in Sylar's ears bringing him closer to the edge. The doctor, though panting beneath him, reached up a hand, softly tracing a line up his torso and wrapping around the back of his neck, brushing through his dark hair.

That was it. With one last thrust inside, Sylar came powerfully, closing his eyes as pulsating heat exploded through him, filling him with an electric sensation he hadn't felt in all too long. And the moan that he'd tried so hard to suppress was finally released, soft and deep.

He leaned forward slowly, resting his head against Mohinder's chest as he tried to catch his breath, letting the pleasured tension that had taken over his body lessen and eventually diminish.

As they lie there, still high on the moment, no other thought entered their minds but that of each other. Every painful, hateful thought and feeling that had plagued each man for months was, for now, gone. For now, all that mattered was this.

_**Maya Herrera and Elle and Bob Bishop**_

_Hartsdale, New York_

Elle leaned against her father's desk, pure irritation painted across her face.

"I don't get why you wont just let me do it." She pouted, leering at her father.

"I don't think you fully understand what he is capable of; you overestimate your own power and I guarantee you it will get you killed." He responded, sounding as though he'd repeated the phrase many times before.

Maya sighed, looking back and forth between the two. Her arm, like Elle's, was now in a sling and she had a bandage across one of her cheeks where her face had hit cement when Sylar threw her into a wall of the loft.

"We have to do something… Gabriel—this man—"

"Sylar." Elle interrupted.

"_Sylar, _he will hurt Doctor Suresh. He saved my life, I owe him everything."

Bob only shook his head at this, removing his glasses and pressing his palms to tired red eyes.

"With everything that's going on right now, we simply don't have the resources to successfully go up against a man like Gabriel Gray. As much as I would like to help Doctor Suresh, I won't let the two of your risk your lives until we know we at least have a chance."

"But Daddy—"

"That's enough, Elle," Bob silenced her, heading for the door of the office, "that's the last I'm going to discuss this with you tonight."

The two women watched as he exited the room then stood in silence for a few moments after the door closed behind him.

"He never lets me do anything!" Elle broke the quiet, standing up straight and glowering, "I stopped Sylar once, I can do it again."

"Someone has to do something… that man is a monster."

The blonde nodded in agreement, looking as though she was deep in thought. After another second passed, she smiled.

"We can use Molly."  
"Molly?"

"Yeah!" Elle moved excitedly towards Maya, enthusiasm flashing in her eyes, "she could find them, tell us exactly where they are, and you and I can go stop Sylar… and save Suresh."

"Isn't that dangerous? Your father said—"

"My father is afraid of him. Everyone in this place is. But you and I are dangerous too, aren't we? One of us he can handle, but not both of us."

Maya contemplated this, looking deeply concerned.

"Do you think we could..?"

Elle grinned.

"I know we could."


	5. Back to Reality

_Okay, so, I'd like to offer a big 'thank you!' to Bonnie and smms, who motivated me to finish this chapter today! Thanks ladies! 3_

* * *

_**Mohinder Suresh **_

_Brooklyn, New York_

When the doctor woke the next morning, it was to a sun-filled room and an empty bed. For both, he was immediately grateful.

He groaned softly, rolling over onto his back and rubbing his eyes roughly, then turned his attention to the ceiling. He was more than relieved that the man who had fallen asleep beside him the night before was now gone. He didn't think he could look at him without feeling that sick, knotting guilt he always felt when his mind fell happily upon the killer; his _father's_ killer.

And, he'd just done much more than simply _think_ about him.

He tried to imagine the beams of sunlight dancing through the window were cleansing, washing him and eradicating him of all the shame he'd caused himself. But, he'd fallen prey to his desires again, and now he was suffering the consequences. No amount of cleansing would change that.

After several minutes passed, he sat up, trying to decide what to do next. His first priority was to get back to Molly, but something inside him feared doing so. Partially because he had no idea where Sylar was at the moment, and he had no intention of leading him to her. Mostly, however, he knew it would force him to face reality again. Going back outside into the 'real world,' would bring him hurtling back to what now seemed to be a universe away; The Company, the Shanti Virus, and everything that came with them.

After all that had happened since, it was hard to believe that only the day before he'd been back at the Company hospital with Molly.

As he got up and pulled on the first pair of pajama bottoms he could find, while trying to ignore the apprehension that was weighing down on him, he found himself glancing at the spot where Sylar had thrown their clothes the night before. He was sickened to feel a sinking disappointment in the pit of his stomach when he found only his own clothing remained.

"Idiot." He whispered to himself, turning away from the discarded garments and searching the room for his cell phone. He found it under the bed, where it had landed after slipping unnoticed out of his pocket sometime between telling Sylar to stop and—. The screen blinked at him, informing him there were 3 messages, all from Matt. Just as he dialed his inbox, however, there was a loud, anxious knocking on the front door, followed by Molly's frantic voice.

"Mohinder! Mohinder please open the door!"

He grabbed a shirt and threw it on as he ran to the door, flinging it open to find Molly sobbing alone on the other side. She immediately wrapped her arms around him, digging her face into his stomach and soaking the cloth there with hot tears.

"Molly? What's wrong? Why are you all by yourself?" he knelt down, pulling her into a fierce hug, then kissing her hair.

"I thought he—I thought he—" her words were barely discernible through her weeping, so he merely held her for a moment before they lessened enough for her to speak.

"Thought what? Why didn't you stay there until I came back?"

"I thought… I thought Sylar would…" she didn't finish her sentence, just dug her face into his shoulder and tightened her grip around him. He couldn't even begin to imagine what she must've thought about what Sylar would do. She had, after all, been present when he'd slaughtered her parents, she'd seen the aftermath when he'd telekinetically sent those bullets flying into Matt's chest, she'd seen when he'd shot Maya in the chest only a day ago. It was just another reason for the doctor to feel that piercing shame in his chest after what he'd done.

"How did you get here all by yourself?" he whispered after a moment, pulling away slightly so he could brush the hair from her face.

"I didn't. Elle and Maya made me find you. Sylar was here, but by the time we got close he was gone."

Such a small explanation, and yet it stirred inside of him two near uncontrollable emotions. The first being pure, overwhelming anger. How dare they use an innocent little girl to hunt down a serial killer? How dare they then proceed to bring her into danger like that? He'd left her in a place he barely trusted merely because it was safer than taking her to the loft with him, then they'd deliberately placed her in harm's way. They'd be lucky if he didn't shoot them the next time he saw either one of them.

The second emotion was… relief. Molly didn't seem to know what had actually gone on between Mohinder and Sylar. She seemed to still be under the impression that Mohinder was merely an unwilling captive; that the other man had kept him against his will. There was almost nothing further from the truth.

"Well… where are they now?"

She paused, looking both devastated and uncertain; it broke his heart that such a young child had already been faced with so much trauma in her short life. He wanted nothing more than to protect her from it, but it seemed that he was failing.

"They asked me to find him… I didn't want to, but they—they kept asking…" her voice faded again and she looked away from him, tears once again sliding down her cheek.

"Molly. Where are they?"

"They went after him. They went after Sylar."

Her blue eyes met his brown, and an unspoken message filled the tense air between them.

_They were both going to die._

_**Sylar**_

_Brooklyn, New York_

As he walked down the crowded sidewalk, he could hear them behind him. They were about two blocks back, but he had great control over his abilities and was easily able to pick up their conversation amongst all the others around them. They weren't the smartest pair.

After waking that morning, he'd watched Mohinder for a minute or two, trying over and over to understand where his plans had gotten so horribly off track. His mind hadn't been able to focus on it for long, though, because the sun was rising and had played across the doctor's face in a deeply tantalizing manner. He really was stunning to look at, and the killer hadn't been able to resist. He'd taken a lock of dark hair and held it in his hand, reveling in the softness.

Almost as quickly as his hand had shot out to touch the other man, his awareness returned. Not wanting to be affected by his single weakness any longer, he'd jumped out of the bed, dressing and leaving the apartment quickly. He wasn't quite sure where he was going, he just needed to get away from his failures.

At first, he'd considered taking the train to Queens, but there was nothing left there for him. He'd decided instead to wander around Brooklyn and try to rethink his strategy. After learning that it had been 'the Company' who had taken his abilities away, his aim had shifted. They would need to be dealt with.

Anyway, that is when he'd heard them; the blonde and Maya. They were whispering to each other about how best to 'stop' him, clearly so delusional that they actually thought they could. It made him want to laugh.

They obviously hadn't done their homework, as they seemed to think that merely because he hadn't 'spotted' them, he was completely unaware that they were near. Of course, this was to his benefit, and he kept up the charade. The hard part was trying to figure out where to lead them… he didn't necessarily want to deal with a large crowd at the moment, but he couldn't think of anywhere secluded enough that he could finish them off in peace.

It took about fifteen minutes before he realized that his feet had done the deciding for him; he was en route to his repair shop. He'd wanted to avoid this place, it was a part of his past he wished not to think about. It was a breeding ground for mediocrity, and that just wasn't him. Not anymore.

It had been closed for nearly a year now, but seemed to have remained basically the way he'd left it. That is, until he telekinetically unlocked the front door and went inside. The place had been ripped apart, and several footprints were visible in the gathering dirt on the floor. Had he not been so distracted by the approaching women, he may have realized that it had been the police who had destroyed the shop in their effort to find him after the death of Virginia Gray.

As it was, however, he made his way to the back, sitting at the desk where he once spent hours working on repairing time pieces. He ran his long fingers over it, seeing the countless crystal faces in his mind and sneering. It seemed like a lifetime ago, when he'd been Gabriel Gray; the most normal person alive. It was like someone else entirely, like it had never been his life.

When the bell on the front door chimed, signaling their arrival, he pulled his hand back slowly, turning in his chair to face them.

He hadn't expected the blonde to react so fast, but still managed to alter the course of the electricity she shot from her hand so it missed him.

"That was uncalled for." He growled, sending her crashing into a display case behind her with the flick of a wrist. She screamed as it collapsed on top of her, showering her in shards of glass and trapping her.

He shook his head and turned his attention to Maya, who seemed to have lost her courage now that her companion was unconscious on the floor. She stood quivering, fear etched on her face.

"Stupid girls," He whispered getting up from his seat and stepping towards her, "Didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

He shot a radioactive hand out, grabbing hold of her neck and searing the skin there. She cried out in pain, and her eyes began to blacken, but he merely tightened his grip, cutting off her oxygen. She soon slumped over in his grip, and he let her fall into a crumpled heap on the floor. She wasn't dead yet, he could hear a weakened heart beating pathetically in her chest.

As he knelt over her, considering all the possibilities her gift could give him, his thoughts turned suddenly to the last time he'd tried to kill her. Mohinder had begged him to stop…. And he had. He'd actually stopped. There was a knotting in his chest as he saw it play over in his head.

He'd given power to the other man. Inadvertently, yes, but he had. No one had ever been able to keep Sylar from his goals; not the FBI, not the Company, not even Peter Petrelli, and this normal, very un-special man _had_. It wasn't right.

And here he was again, torn. Wanting so badly to just kill her already, something he'd fantasized about for all too long, but unable to. He kept seeing the doctor's face, kept hearing 'Don't' over and over, increasing in volume each time. He wasn't even here, and still affected Sylar enough to cause him to hesitate. It had gone too far.

He heard the other girl stir, regaining consciousness. He would let her go for now, the chase was the fun part anyway. Maya's ability would be enough for the time being.

_**Mohinder Suresh, Molly Walker, and Bob Bishop**_

_Hartsdale, New York_

Mohinder wasn't quite sure why he'd immediately headed back to the Company hospital with Molly when what he really needed to do was run. He needed to get them both as far away from it as he could, but he was too tired, too overwhelmed. Dealing with everything alone was too much for one person to handle, and even remaining with the Company seemed a better option at the moment.

Bob was frantic; a state in which Mohinder had never seen him. Upon first arriving back at the hospital, he'd refused flat out to let Bob anywhere near Molly; he knew full well that the man would try and guilt her into using her ability to locate his missing daughter. The little girl didn't need to be the one responsible for doing so.

After a while, though, he'd allowed her to tell Bob where it was Elle and Maya had been headed, and he'd immediately sent several field agents to find her.

Now, they'd gotten a call that the girl had been found stumbling down a sidewalk in Brooklyn, sobbing and covered in bleeding cuts. Maya was nowhere to be found, and Elle was barely conscious and unable to tell them what had happened. Mohinder, however, feared the worst.

Now, he and Molly were being shown into his 'new lab' by an anxious Bob who was clearly trying to distract himself while he awaited the arrival of the agents and Elle.

"You should have everything you need for now. There's an empty room two doors down if you need to sleep." He said absently, motioning around the room.

"Bob… I told you before, I'm finished with The Company."

"Not again, Suresh," Bob held the bridge of his nose in weariness, "You seemed fine being here yesterday."

"Yes, I'm afraid I was a bit desperate for help, and I appreciate your efforts. But, I can't work here anymore—"

Before he finished his sentence, a Company employee ran in, explaining that Elle and the agents had arrived and they were setting her up in a room downstairs.

For an instant, Bob looked relieved. But, it quickly passed and the familiar stern look suddenly crossed the other man's face as he stood up straight, speaking with severity.

"Doctor, you're important to us. Your father's research is important to us. We would be willing to compromise with you if need be, but what you and your studies find may save lives. Don't give up on that." With that, he turned and left the room, not bothering to wait for a response. The employee followed him out, leaving Mohinder and Molly alone.

Mohinder sighed, tuning to face the little girl who watched him with uncertainty.

"What now?" she asked.

"I'm not sure…Why don't you go rest in the other room?"

"But I don't—"

"Molly, please. I need a moment to gather my thoughts."

She looked disappointed, but did as he asked, walking out the door and heading into the hall. The floor was empty, save for the two of them, so he could hear each step she took. He waited until he heard the opening and closing of the nearby door to pull his cell phone out and dial Matt's number.

"Mohinder?" his voice was anxious and loud. He had been waiting for the call.

"Yes. You left me several messages—"

"You're damn right I did. What the hell is going on? Molly called me about 20 times this morning saying something about Sylar having you. What the hell is she talking about?"

"Matt—" Mohinder held his head, trying to figure out how to word what he needed to say.

"What happened that made her think of Sylar again? He's dead!"

"Matt—"

"Did she have another nightmare or something? What's going on—?"

"Matt. He's alive."

There was a dead silence on the other line while Parkman tried to absorb what he'd just heard. Mohinder held his breath, not sure how exactly he would react.

"…what?"

"He came back to the apartment two nights ago—"

"He went to the apartment? With Molly there?!"

"Yes, but he didn't harm her."  
"Yet."

The doctor winced at this. 'Yet.' Matt was right, though; what if Sylar _did_ come after Molly? What if he _did_ want to have her ability for his own? Who could stop him?

"Oh God, you've got to be kidding me… shit really does happen all at once I guess."

"…what do you mean?"  
"Jesus, Suresh, don't you watch the news?" he sighed, pausing, "its Nathan Petrelli… he's been shot—"

Before he could finish his sentence, even before Mohinder could react, the phone leapt from his hand, crashing into the wall in front of him and shattering at his feet.

He turned on his heel to face the doorway, where Sylar was leaning against the frame, his arms crossed across his chest and a smile plastered on his face.

Mohinder's heart jumped into his throat.

"New lab?" the taller man asked, looking around the room.

"How did you get in here?"

Sylar ignored his question, stepping further into the room and brushing his fingers along the many instruments covering a long table in the middle.

"I need your help, Mohinder."

"How did you find this place?" the doctor asked, praying that Molly stayed put. He didn't want her to have to face Sylar again. And he most certainly didn't want the man tempted by her ability.

"It was easy enough. I followed the girl… Anyway, you're going to help me repay your friends for what they did to me."

"What makes you think I'd help _you_?"

Sylar smiled at this, stepping away from the table and towards Mohinder. He reached out and grabbed the darker man's hand, rubbing it with his thumb.

"Because I know you; I know you hate them as much as I do."

The doctor pulled his hand back, leering at Sylar.

"You killed her."

"Who?"

"Maya. You killed her."

Sylar shrugged, running his hand down Mohinder's jaw line affectionately.

"It was her time… I like it when you get angry."

The Indian felt himself shudder beneath the other man's touch, and he had to fight to maintain his composure as every inch of him was buzzing with excitement. Even as his insides burned with contempt for what Sylar had surely done to Maya, even as he'd never felt more sickly betrayed in his entire existence, he loved the feel of the man's hand on his skin.

"Don't… touch me." He whispered, pulling away. Sylar simply grinned.

"It's a bit late for that."

"You killed her… I promised I'd help her. She thought you cared for her, but we both know you're incapable of that. You're just a—a—"

"A what?" Sylar reached out, brushing the caramel skin of the other man's face as he spoke, "A murderer? A monster?"

He stepped closer, sliding his hands up the doctor's chest, then grabbing his hair forcefully, kissing his neck.

"You'll forgive me."

He stepped back suddenly, turning to face the door and gazing intently out into the hall.

"What?" Mohinder was half in a daze, but tried to sound lucid.

"I have to go… oh, and tell your friend he should up security around here. They make it too easy." As soon as the last word left his mouth, he left the room, disappearing down the corridor.

The minute Mohinder could no longer see him, a loud, resounding alarm went off and echoed painfully through the hall. Molly shot out of her room, running to Mohinder and wrapping her arms around him, hiding her face in his side.

"What's happening?" she cried.

He shook his head, wrapping an arm comfortingly around her shoulder.

"I wish I knew."

_**Bob Bishop**_

_Hartsdale, New York_

Twenty minutes later, after checking on his daughter and trying to calm her down, Robert Bishop stood in the hallway just outside her door, watching her stare absently at the ceiling above her.

Everything was a mess; after he'd settled Elle into her room, an attendant had run in, claiming that 11 people who had been on the first floor were now dead, screaming something about black tears. He'd set the alarm, calling for all able personnel to search the hospital; of course, they still hadn't turned anything up. Bob knew they wouldn't.

As for Elle, she had seen a lot in her life, something he felt was inevitable; it was part of the job. But something about it had been different this time, and she didn't seem able to handle it. He wasn't sure if it was watching Maya die that had done it, or whether it had something to do with being so easily overpowered by Sylar, but it had her petrified.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, dialed, then waited for an answer.

"Hello?" Bennet sounded upset.

"Noah… you need to get back to New York immediately."

There was an aggravated sigh on the other end of the line.

"What now?"

"It's about your friend, Doctor Suresh."

The other man didn't respond; not that this surprised Bob. The good doctor had, after all, recently shot him in the face.

"What about him?"

"He's getting out of line… I figured _you_ knew something about that," he let the words sink in before continuing, "he recently injected Sylar with a mixture of his and Claire's blood, curing him of the virus we injected him with four months ago—"

"You did what?"

"—and now he's killed again. I'm afraid we need to focus our remaining resources on his capture, but I want _you_ to keep a close eye on Suresh."

"Why me? If Sylar's out there again because of some stupid mistake you people made, and my daughter—"

"Well… you're old friends after all. And, I wouldn't worry about Claire. _You_ don't even know where Sandra's taking the family, do you?"

More silence. Bob knew very well which buttons to push when it came to Bennet, and with everything that was going on at the moment, he would make a point of doing so.

"I'll need you here first thing in the morning, then… oh, and Bennet? Bring the Haitian. I know that you're still in contact with him, and we could use his services."

"…Fine."

With that, Bob clicked his phone shut, returning his attention to his daughter. She was still watching the ceiling… it almost reminded him of the way she'd looked when she was a little girl, after hours of experimentation. He almost felt guilty, but knew it had been the right thing to do. Anyway, the Haitian had fixed it and again soon enough.

His thoughts wandered back to the doctor, and how he was sure the Indian would attempt to leave again eventually.

Bob couldn't, and wouldn't have that.

_**Mohinder Suresh**_

_Hartsdale, New York_

The night had passed quickly; Molly had fallen asleep in his arms, exhausted from the day's distress. He'd still not been informed about why the alarm had been set by the time he'd calmed her down, and sat wondering about it until he too slipped into slumber.

His dreams had provided little comfort; his mind was clearly stuck on a subject he wished he could forget.

When he woke in the morning, he was almost surprised to find himself in his 'new lab.' It wasn't like he expected to be anywhere else, he simply found it ironic that something he'd decided to stay away from was quickly becoming his new home.

It was a minute before his eyes adjusted and he realized that he was the only one in the room.

"Molly?" he jumped up, treading down the hall into the room Bob had given her. It was empty.

"Molly?!" he called louder, panic setting in as he tried every door in the hallway, running back and forth and finding nothing.

She was gone.


	6. Unpredictable

_**Mohinder Suresh**_

_Hartsdale, New York_

His heart was jumping around wildly in his chest as ran from door to door, finding most of them locked. He looked through each window into each room, double checked, screamed her name over and over, but Molly was nowhere to be found.

He leaned against the door frame of his lab, out of breath, as a thousand thoughts ran through his cluttered head.

_Where is she? Who has her? Why didn't I notice when she was taken? Why-?_

"What seems to be the problem, Doctor Suresh?" a cold, familiar voice spoke from behind him. He winced as he realized who it was and turned to face him. Bennet.

"You." He whispered, facing the man he had once trusted and now realized was the cruel, wanton man he had originally believed him to be.

"Me. You seem to be in a bit of panic… care to share with me as to why?"

"What are you doing here, Bennet?"

Noah walked past him into the lab, gazing around thoughtfully.

"You don't really need to ask me that, do you Suresh?" he returned his gaze to the doctor, being sure to stress what he said next, "After all… you're the reason I'm here."

"…You're with the Company again."

The other man nodded, running a falsely inquisitive hand along a small microscope on the table beside him. He wasn't interested in it or anything else in the room; he knew his nonchalance was infuriating.

"No thanks to you."

Mohinder had to fight the urge to bring up the fact that I was Bennet's idea for him to join The Company in an attempt to bring them down 'from the inside,' but was able to change the subject. There were more important matters to deal with than their little feud.

"Where is she?" he hissed.

Bennet removed his hand from the table and looked at Mohinder, confused.

"Who?"

"Molly. What did you do with her?"

The other man smirked, shaking his head in disbelief and laughing.

"Tell me you weren't idiot enough to bring her back to them?"

In a desperate moment, the doctor lost any and all of his remaining good sense and rushed the man in horn rimmed glasses, grabbing him violently by the collar and twisting it.

"Where… is… she?" he spoke though gritted teeth, practically feeling his anger burning through Noah's shirt. But, Bennet easily brushed him off, shoving him backwards and pulling a gun from inside his jacket.

"Fuck if I know… you're just lucky I haven't already killed you after what you—!"

"Gentlemen!" Bob's voice interrupted, causing the other two men to turn abruptly towards him, startled by his presence.

"Is there a problem?" he asked calmly, eyeing Noah's gun.

"You think?" Bennet spat, shoving his gun into his jacket once more and leering at Bishop with a clear, unmasked detestation with which Mohinder currently related.

"Where's Molly?"

"Miss Walker has been taken to a secure location—"

"I'm sorry?"

Mohinder's heart sunk. He'd made one mistake and they'd taken her. Of course, how could he not have seen it coming?

He'd almost never hated himself more. Almost.

"When you and Mr. Parkman chose to serve as her guardians, it was with the belief that you could raise and protect her well, I assume?"

"Of course—!"

"In the past few days, you've helped Sylar, her parents' murderer, to regain his abilities and he's already started killing again. Maya, several Company employees—"

It was all getting to be just a bit too much. Was he blaming _Mohinder_ for Sylar's return?

"Em—employees?"

"You didn't assume that alarm last night was for nothing?"

"No… but—"

"Look, Doctor," Bob removed his glasses, holding the bridge of his nose for a moment, "My point is that neither you nor Parkman has been able to give Molly the care she needs. We can."

The doctor's heart stopped now, he couldn't entirely grasp what the man was saying, but he just kept talking.

"Now, I told you before that we would be willing to make a deal with you. If you continue your research with us without issue… Molly will be returned to you."

How like them. They were using a little girl as a bargaining chip.

"You can't bribe me."

"If you don't want to stay, you're free to go. We'll take good care of Molly."

The doctor could only glare at Bob, completely at a loss for what to do or say. The older man smiled, raising his eyebrows knowingly as he returned his glasses to his face before turning to address Noah.

"The Haitian will be up momentarily."

With that, he turned and left the room, disappearing down the hall.

There was a moment of tense silence in which each man gathered his bearings once more, struggling with loss before Bennet spoke again.

"There you have it. They took out an insurance policy on you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mohinder turned once more to him, too tired and defeated to let the words drip with the disdain he so felt for the man.

"It means that if you'd done what we worked so hard to do, that if you'd stuck to the plan instead of allowing yourself to be so easily swayed that neither of us would be in this position right now. I'd be home with my family and you with Molly… but you screwed up and now we're both paying the price."

As the hatred in his words sunk in, Mohinder just stared at him. It really _was_ getting to be too much. He once again stepped angrily towards the man, but Noah reacted faster. He pulled his gun out again, pointing it at the doctor and smirking.

"I doubt our friend will be back to interrupt us again."

Mohinder froze where he stood, feeling his throat tense up. What a shame it would be to have survived countless encounters with the likes of Sylar to die by Bennet's gun.

"You ruined everything, Suresh…" the gun was trembling in Noah's hand, the doctor could see that every cell in his body was itching to pull the trigger, "you ruined everything. You're just like the rest of them—"

Mohinder heard the explosion from the gun before he realized Noah's finger had even moved. His eyes were shut tight, every inch of his body preparing for the bullet's impact… but it never came. Several seconds passed before he was lucid enough to realize something was wrong.

He opened one eye and then the other to find Noah staring at the door behind him as the bullet dropped from its position just centimeters from his face and clattered on the floor at his feet.

"Oh, Mr. Bennet; was that really necessary?"

Mohinder wasn't sure what to feel as he turned to find Sylar standing behind him, his arms crossed mockingly across his chest. He shook his head in derision before holding out his hand, telekinetically calling Bennet's gun into his grasp. He sneered at the man as it melted into a metallic liquid, dripping all over the floor.

Bennet looked absolutely horrified; being defenseless against a clearly irritated Sylar was never a good position in which to find oneself.

"Its great to see you again… good to see your arm healed up nicely." the killer smiled, stalking towards to the other man.

"Hello Gabriel, I'm surprised at you. I'd think you'd like to see the doctor dead as much as I would." The fear on Noah's face had now been replaced with contempt, and he stood up as straight as he could, no doubt trying to act as though he wasn't as powerless as he was.

The doctor's breath caught in his throat as his eyes jumped from Noah to Sylar and back again. The killer had reacted at being called 'Gabriel,' wincing as the name rolled off of Bennet's hateful tongue. But, as quickly as the reaction came, it was gone, and he once again stood coolly leering at the man. He had positioned himself between Noah and Mohinder and stopped walking.

"Who, him?" he turned and smiled at the darker man, "Maybe. But not on your terms."

Noah visibly tensed as Sylar raised his hand once more, about to throw him god knows where when… nothing happened. It seemed to be the theme of the day.

He looked at his hand in confusion and cursed. He tried again, and still nothing happened.

"What did you-?" he started to ask, when the Haitian walked past the front window of the room, pausing in the doorway and holding his hands gracefully in front of him as he eyed the situation.

"Well… you certainly took your time getting here, didn't you?" Bennet asked as the man moved across the room to stand beside him. The Haitian said nothing, simply reaching into his coat and pulling out a gun, handing it to Bennet.

X X X X X

Everything was gone. It was like Sylar's senses were all being muted, like they had been when he's woken up in the shack with a stab wound in his torso. His incredible hearing was gone, and as his eyes fell once more on Mohinder as he scrambled to be out of the way of Noah's new gun, it was clear that his ability to understand was gone as well. He couldn't read the doctor's expression at all, couldn't even begin to determine what was going on in his head.

The Indian now stood beside the Haitian, staring down Sylar; they were on different sides again. As always.

"Sort of anti-climactic isn't it?" grinned Bennet, all too excited as he pointed the gun at Sylar. The killer almost found it amusing; he always had to have the last word, didn't he?

The tall man took a half step back, his mind already racing through a million ways to get out, when—_thud_! The Haitian collapsed into a crumpled mass on the floor.

All eyes moved immediately to Mohinder who, now standing over him with a microscope held above his head, looked both guilty and pleased with himself. Bennet pulled the trigger, but it was already too late.

With a fluid flick of his wrist, Sylar redirected the bullet, letting it lodge into the wall opposite him, and sent the other man crashing into the counters behind him. Mohinder dropped the microscope, letting it crash loudly on the floor as he looked at both unconscious men with a hint of concern on his face.

"I…" he started, but Sylar leapt forward, grabbed him by the upper arm, and began pulling him out of the room.

"Come on." He growled, not looking at the doctor as he led him quickly back down the hall.

"But—"

Mohinder pulled out of his grasp and stopped walking. Sylar rolled his eyes, turning to face him. The man looked torn; it was obvious he didn't want to stay, but at the same time… didn't want to go. His soft features were contorted in confliction, as they so often were whenever Sylar's eyes played across them.

"They're already on their way up… what are you going to do when they get here? Apologize?"

"They… Molly…"

His hearing now returned to its hyper-sensitive state, Sylar could hear the Company agents in the elevator just a few floors down, on their way up. He wasn't much in the mood to deal with them, and needed to get Mohinder to move. Quickly.

"Yeah, yeah… but can you really help her from here? Especially after what you just did." He grinned to himself, seeing it over again in his head. Mohinder was often times more unpredictable than he seemed. He may not have been able to fly or move things with his mind, but he usually had a trick or two up his colorful sleeves. For instance, the whole 'Curare Incident' had come as a complete surprise…

"Fine." The shorter man muttered after a moment, heading once more down the hall in the direction of the nearest exit.

Sylar watched him for a second, only then realizing that, despite the fact that his abilities were no longer being blocked, he _still_ couldn't figure the man out. Not completely anyway. It irked him a bit, being that there was little he could not understand about people and the world in general.

Mohinder seemed to be constantly pulled from all sides, driven by conflicting emotions and needs, but never really reaching his goals. He didn't seem to understand himself most of the time, he was just too consumed with constant doubt and mistrust. And, _everything_ he did in regards to Sylar was laden with hesitation.

That much Sylar understood… still, there was something he couldn't quite grasp. That 'X' factor that made the doctor's actions seem somewhat erratic at times.

The taller man hurried after him, hearing the doors of the elevator _ding_ open somewhere down the hall behind them.

As they went through a door, entering a long stairwell, Sylar could hear more agents several flights down, headed up towards them. He groaned to himself, knowing he'd have to spend precious energy taking them out.

Before he could start down the stairs, however, Mohinder grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and spun him around. He clearly wanted to say something, but was struggling with it.

"You realize we're being chased, right-?"

"Thank you." The doctor finally managed to spit out.

It was really the first semi-friendly thing he had said to Sylar since discovering his true identity. Not counting words spoken in the heat of a passionate moment, that is.

The killer wasn't sure what to do with it, so merely turned and started back down the stairs.

He needed to focus on the inevitable fight right now, not dwell on how happy two simple little words had just made him.


	7. Escape

Eeek... this took quite a long time to update. sigh I hope you like...

* * *

_**Sylar and Mohinder Suresh**_

_Hartsdale, New York_

Sylar could hear them pounding breathlessly up the stairs. Five… no, six Company agents: each with the sole intention of killing him and 'saving' Mohinder. It was rather noble of them, he thought. They must have known that they had only about a .00001 percent chance of actually succeeding. Their associates had learned the hard way the day before.

The doctor followed closely as they made their way downwards, but the man's heart sounded as though it was about to beat clean out of his chest. It was expected, after all, he had just assaulted a man with a microscope. Not exactly a normal day for anyone… almost anyone, anyway.

"Where are we—?" Mohinder panted, almost tripping over his feet as they sped down the stairs.

"Just—shh!" Sylar slowed slightly and came to a stop, causing the other man to crash hard into his back. The doctor grunted softly as his body met Sylar's and he scrambled to grab onto to the taller man to keep himself from tumbling down the stairs.

"I'm flattered Doctor," Sylar sneered, turning to look over his shoulder as Mohinder regained his balance, "but I don't think it'd be appropriate given the circumstances—"

Suddenly realizing what he was doing, Mohinder stood up quickly, snapping his arms back and shooting a death-glare at Sylar.

He looked like he wanted to protest, but the mob was close now, only about two flights down, and even he could hear them.

"What now?" he spat, a slight hint of sarcasm in his tone. He may as well have said '_Now _look what you gotten me in to.' How fickle he could be.

"Why don't you just—?" Sylar was interrupted when the sound of someone pulling the trigger of a gun rang clear in his ears and he shoved Mohinder backwards onto the concrete steps behind him just in time to keep him from being hit by the bullet. It whirred between them and lodged angrily in the wall behind them, leaving the doctor to gape at it in shock.

"Stay down."

Sylar looked over the railing, immediately spotting the woman who had fired the shot. The other agents had already continued stampeding up the stairs, and she was several feet behind them, just beginning to move. It was easy enough to telekinetically send her flying into the agents nearest her, creating a sort of domino effect. Four of them tripped over each other and slammed hard onto the cement beneath them, their guns sliding away across the floor.

It was almost comical, how very little effort it took on his part. With just a thought, he'd already slowed them down immensely.

The two agents who hadn't been involved in the wreck were now on the landing just below him; one held a normal handgun, the other held what Sylar immediately recognized as a tranquilizer gun. How adorable.

He flicked his wrist, sending the weapons flying over the railing then releasing his mind's grip, letting them freefall to the bottom floor. He leered back at the agents, grinning. The man on the right, a tall, thick man looked at him with clear nervousness in his eyes while the man on the left, a shorter, light-haired man who only looked to be in his early twenties gazed back at him with obvious cockiness. This one was clearly 'different.'

He could hear the agents from upstairs now hurrying down the steps… four of them. That made ten total. Simple enough. Still, it had been a while since he'd been truly able to flex his abilities, and this was just the warm up he'd needed.

"Let the doctor go, Sylar." The taller man said, trying to mask the fear in his voice and failing miserably.

"Or what?" Sylar raised his eye brows, daring them to make the first move. The light-haired man did just that. He stepped quickly towards the killer, who easily tossed him backwards into the wall of the landing. He fell at the feet of his colleagues, and Sylar smiled happily at his handiwork. The others weren't even challenging him; they'd already seen just how easy it was for him to overpower them.

He turned and glanced at Mohinder who was leaning against the railing, trying to peer around him at the man he'd just thrown.

"Sylar—"

"There are more coming. Idiots—"

Before he could finish his sentence, he heard the sudden noise of several people rushing towards him and turned just in time to see… four of the light-haired man about to tackle him to the ground. He quickly threw up a telekinetic wall, and all four of the… 'men,' crashed into it headlong. _Replicas_. A fascinating ability, indeed. Sylar stepped towards the four bodies, but something about the young man's bravado had apparently sparked something in his fellow agents, and several of them pulled out back-up weapons which had been concealed in their clothing. One woman, a middle-aged brunette, held her hands out to her sides threateningly, creating fire in her palms. _Another one._

Several more shots were fired, but he reached out a hand, holding the bullets in mid-air and shaking his head. He let them drop and clatter on the floor, reveling in how each hateful face blanched at the sight. As he put a telekinetic hold on each of them, holding them in place, he marveled at how very pathetic they were, had they actually thought_ they_ could stop _him_?

He could hear Mohinder's anxious heart beat behind him, overpowering even the sound of the agents who were still making their way down the stairs. He was terrified.

Sylar was sick of playing around anyway, and without removing his eyes from his adversaries, spoke to him

"Mohinder. I need you to try and relax. Now is seriously not the time to panic."

He could hear the doctor taking deep, labored breaths as he began to focus on the other heartbeats around them. He'd only used this ability once before, but thanks to his natural gift, already had a grasp on it Maya had never achieved.

It only took a moment before he felt the dark, fatal poison slowly begin to take over his body. He could feel as the black tears started dripping down his cheek, and when he heard Mohinder take in a sharp, horrified breath, he knew the others were now succumbing to the plague being emitted from his body.

Soon enough, he heard the thudding of bodies dropping where they stood, accompanied with moans of agony and one or two noises that signaled some of the more unfortunate agents had slipped down the stairs in their debilitated states.

He was preparing to once and for all stop those weakened heartbeats when he happened to turn and glance back at Mohinder.

The look on his face was a distinct combination of fear and disgust, and from the way he held the railing and was beginning to edge backwards, Sylar could tell something wasn't right. Just a few moments ago the doctor had thanked him for saving his life, and now he was watching him as though waiting to be slaughtered right then and there.

Something about the way he looked affected Sylar in a way he couldn't quite understand, and he took in a deep, gasping breath as the ability relinquished its hold on the people around them, leaving them to lie near-dead on the floor.

He eyed the doctor for a moment, not sure what the problem was. It wasn't like he could possibly have thought Sylar was just going to let the pathetic excuses for human beings walk away unscathed. But now he stood silently, soft brown eyes staring fearfully at the taller man before him, not saying a word but not needing to. The killer felt an odd twitch in the pit of his stomach and decided it was time to go.

Sylar immediately started once more down the steps, stepping over several unconscious bodies as he moved. As he reached the landing below, he took note of the lack of footsteps behind him and turned to the doctor who still stood watching him, leaning on the railing for support.

"Are you coming?" Sylar snapped, his patience quickly beginning to dissipate. He hadn't _killed_ the bastards after all.

The doctor continued to stare at him for a second, before hesitantly removing his hand from the railing and stepping forward.

"You—" he started to talk, but was interrupted when several shots were fired from the landing above them, narrowly missing him. He immediately began to hurry down the stairs, clearly shaken, as Sylar looked up to see a half-conscious agent pointing a gun at him. With a simple thought, he threw the man into the wall behind him, knocking him completely unconscious, then hurried after the Indian.

As they headed down to the first floor, neither spoke nor slowed down, and soon they were greeted by the bright springtime sun.

_**Sylar and Mohinder Suresh**_

_Somewhere along Interstate 95_

It had been easy enough stealing the small black sedan Sylar had seen the blonde, and later the agents who found her after he let her escape, driving, but he wasn't sure if it had been his best idea. Who knows what kind of tracking systems those people had on it?

They'd been driving for nearly half an hour now, in no particular direction, and Mohinder hadn't said a word the whole time. In fact, he hadn't said a word since he'd been interrupted by the gunshot. Even trying to convince him to get into the car had been a chore, and Sylar had nearly resorted to telekinetically forcing him in. However, he figured that wasn't necessarily the best way to get him talking again, so opted for the 'what are you going to do instead? Wait for them to come get you?' approach. Luckily, it had worked.

So now they were once again in a car together, only this time was much different than it had been all those months ago. Before, there had been small talk, awkward at first but eventually it became as comfortable as if they had known each other their whole lives; there had been quick, covert glances at one another that, when caught, ended in small, shy smiles and soft blushing. This time there was none of that. Mohinder was staring absently out of his window, his hands firmly in his lap and Sylar was frustrated with the silence. More that that, however, he was frustrated with the fact that it frustrated him in the first place.

Only a couple days before, he'd intended on killing this man, and now he wanted nothing more than to cut through the tension that hung between them like lead. That, in and of itself, infuriated him.

Just as he was about to (possibly, quite literally) explode with irritation, the gaslight _dinged_ on, signaling that they'd need to stop soon and refill the tank.

Sylar growled with aggravation. Stopping to refill a gas tank seemed like something someone else would do, someone with another life in another existence… not him. He'd just stopped 10 people in their tracks with his mind, and now he had to pay for gas.

Eventually, though, he got off the Interstate, passing a sign reading 'Welcome to Larchmont Village' and finding a small service station, so he pulled in, parking beside a gas pump and shutting off the engine.

For a moment, he just sat there, trying once again to figure out where exactly it was everything had turned for the worst, when Mohinder suddenly unbuckled his seatbelt, flung his door open and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

It took the other man a minute to react, but he soon did, scrambling to unbuckle his own seatbelt and stepping out of his own door, leaning on the hood of the car and calling to the doctor's retreating back.

"Where do you think you're going?"

When no answer came, the killer rolled his eyes, debating whether to chase after him or simply stop him by means of telekinesis. The latter should have been the obvious choice, but Sylar found himself doubting it, which again only served to piss him off further.

X X X X X

The gravel crunched beneath Mohinder's feet as he walked away from the car. He had no idea where he was, but it didn't matter. He just needed to get away; away from an evil with which he'd become all too comfortable.

It had been so easy to forget who the man really was, what he was really capable of, after feeling how gentle those hands could really be, after feeling the weight of his body softly weighing Mohinder's own down into the sheets below him. It had been so easy to pretend that all the lies, all the hurt, all the hate hadn't existed as anything other than some dim past-life memory.

Too easy.

It had made the doctor feel disgusted enough with himself, but then he'd watched as Sylar had used, _flaunted_, the power he stole from Maya and it had served as the rudest re-awakening Mohinder had ever experienced. Sylar had made a point of mentioning he didn't kill Maya on _that_ night, right before the doctor had submitted to him completely, and then he'd turned around and done it anyway.

The betrayal had burned worse even then when Mohinder had stumbled across an online article on the death of a Virginian musician, Zane Taylor, who had been found murdered in his home. At least that time, he hadn't made the conscious effort to trust someone he knew he shouldn't. To forgive someone who didn't deserve it. It had been only a momentary truce, but it was enough to create within the doctor a plethora of self-hatred.

Now, he wanted to get away from it, push it as far into the depths of his unconscious as he could and find a way to get Molly back. He had barely made it to the sidewalk when he heard footsteps hurrying to catch up to him.

_Please, just don't._

"Mohinder!" Sylar sounded angry, speaking through gritted teeth.

Still, the darker man kept walking. He just needed to get away.

"Stop, dammit." A heavy hand grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, spinning him around so he faced the killer who leered down at him, annoyance playing across his features.

"Where are you going?'

Mohinder had no answer, after all he really had no specific destination; he was just going.

"Back to my life… Enjoy yours." He spoke rather curtly before turning to leave again. He walked about ten feet, feeling dark eyes boring into his back the whole time, before Sylar once again followed him.

"That's it? I saved your life and now you're off to get yourself killed; after all that effort. I almost got shot because of you. Rather inconsiderate, don't you think?"

"You saved my life and I saved yours, we're even. We no longer owe each other anything… Leave it at that." Mohinder started to walk away again, but Sylar grabbed his forearm, burying long fingers almost painfully into his flesh.

"And what is it you plan on doing from here? You can't possibly think you can just walk in and get the girl back by asking nicely."

"What concern of yours is it?" Mohinder tugged out of Sylar's grip and stepped back, glaring as hard at the man as he could manage, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just don't want me to leave."

Bad move, Mohinder.

The look that crossed Sylar's face was enough to send chills down the doctor's spine, and as the taller man stepped closer to him, standing at his full height and leering down intensely at him, he was certain he'd gone too far.

"Don't get cute with me, Doctor. Trust me; you don't want to go there." His voice was a low, angry hum, and he was close enough that Mohinder could feel his hot breath on his face.

"What is it then? Why won't you leave me alone?"

The taller man hesitated, only for a split second, before stepping back and crossing his arms across his chest; sneering.

"There's still that little matter of you agreeing to help pay those fuckers back for what they did to me."

The doctor scoffed.

"I never agreed to—"

"Anyway, as I have already pointed out: there is no way you're getting your little girl back on your own. Your Company seems to be a mutual problem, doesn't it?"

"You can't actually believe I'd lead you right to her? Are you mad?"

"If I wanted her dead, she already would be."

"Absolutely not," the doctor backed away again, "I've already endangered enough people by helping you regain your abilities. I won't help you anymore—"

"So looking the other way and leaving me to my own devices is the better option? I don't follow your logic, Mohinder."

Of course, he was right. Pretending the man wouldn't do as he wished when he wished how he wished simply because one didn't watch it happen was preposterous. Still, Mohinder wanted to get away; run away.

"Don't you think," Sylar continued, reaching a hand out and gently touching the shorter man's jaw line, "it would be smarter to keep me in your sights… Doctor?"

Mohinder's brain was screaming at him now. Thoughts like 'Don't let him touch you! Run, scream, hit him, do something; just don't let him touch you!' sounded loudly in his head, while every cell in his skin was on fire with the need to reach out and touch him back. This internal quandary rendered him motionless; he didn't want to want it, but he didn't want it to stop.

He had been unsure of himself before, but nothing had ever managed to make him feel as twisted and conflicted as this man made him feel. It should've been easy to hate him… but Mohinder found it simply wasn't.

"While I am not deluded enough to believe I could stop you from killing…I guess in a way, you're right."

The killer smirked, pulling his hand back. Mohinder's skin tingled at the loss.

"I know."


	8. Epiphany

Holy geeze, this took FOREVER. I'm sorry. :(

A HUGE thanks to my good friend and new beta Paxlux, without whom I would still be dying from Writer's Block!

* * *

_**Sylar and Mohinder Suresh**_

_Somewhere along Interstate 95_

Mohinder sat staring at the small coffee cup in his hands, stirring absently as he considered just how much trouble he had gotten himself into.

After refilling the car's gas tank, he and Sylar had stopped at some hole-in-the-wall café, and Mohinder had found a pay phone and called Matt's cell. He cooked up some lie about why their previous call had been so suddenly interrupted, then proceeded to tell him that they needed to talk, that Mohinder would be coming to Odessa. The cop had asked several times about whether Molly was coming with him, but the doctor had simply tried to keep his thoughts 'clean' (though he wasn't entirely sure if Matt could even read minds over the phone) and pretended not to hear. He couldn't bring himself to tell the other man the truth; it was too much for a phone call.

So, Matt gave him the address of the hospital where he was staying with Nathan and told him to call when he reached Odessa. Then, he'd said something along the lines of, 'Oh, and Mohinder… well, I can't really talk about it now, but… there's someone here who can help with the Sylar issue. You'll understand once you get here.'

_The Sylar Issue_. It was at that point Mohinder decided once and for all not to mention the fact that the serial killer would be tagging along.

How had it come to this?

He became so absorbed in the question, that it took a moment for him to realize Sylar was staring him down from across the small table.

"What?" the doctor snapped, glaring at the other man.

"I'm guessing the call didn't go well."

"…What are you talking about?"

The taller man slouched back in his seat, smirking.

"You're not exactly the least transparent person on the planet, Mohinder… Your boyfriend upset with you?"

Mohinder, having just lifted his cup to his lips, nearly spit all of its contents all over the table, and began choking on his breath. This reaction seemed to please the other man, because he grinned.

"What in God's name is that supposed to mean?" Mohinder spat, his face burning with a combination of irritation and embarrassment. He glanced over at the table beside them, where a group of elderly women were now frowning at him and whispering amongst themselves.

"It just means you're upset. Calm down Doctor, you wouldn't want to make a scene." The cool, even tone of Sylar's voice was maddening, and the Indian knew very well he was doing it intentionally. That didn't stop him from reacting.

"Don't you think that may have something to do with the fact that I'm being forced to drive halfway across the country with a serial killer?"

He heard a gasp from the other table, and the old women shuffled out of their seats, hurrying away from what Mohinder was sure to them was a wholly disturbing conversation. He was worried that, to him, this type of conversation was becoming an everyday occurrence. He and Sylar pushing and pulling each other, trying to see who cracked first.

Sylar watched them go, then quickly leaned forward, hissing at Mohinder.

"In case you're wondering, that was a stupid thing to say out loud... God, it's like you _want_ to get caught."

Mohinder tried to think of something harsh to say back, but couldn't. Again, the killer was right. Attracting too much attention would make it that much easier for the Company to track them, and he'd let his emotions get the better of him. They'd had a tendency to do that lately; it was beginning to concern him.

"…So. What'd he say?" Sylar asked after a moment. He seemed to have calmed down slightly, or wanted Mohinder to think he had.

"Does it matter? I told him I'm coming to talk to him. That's all."

Dark eyes leered at him, clearly not content with the answer, but the killer remained silent before breaking eye contact. It continued like this for several minutes, each glancing up at the other every so often, but neither saying a word.

It was the doctor who eventually spoke.

"Gabriel… that's your name?"

The other man sat up perfectly straight, looking as though he wasn't sure whether to answer the question or simply forgo formalities and kill Mohinder then and there.

"What did you just say?"

"Gabriel. Is that your name? That's what Maya called you. And Bennet—"

"No. Gabriel is...nothing." Sylar's words were final; the conversation was over. He glowered at his hands, which were balled into fists. Apparently, the doctor had stumbled on a sensitive subject.

"Fine."

Whether or not he had intended to, and Mohinder was sure he hadn't, Sylar had just piqued the doctor's interest. Clearly there was something about the name 'Gabriel' that he was trying to forget or avoid, and his quick denial made the scientist in the Indian squirm with the desire to know. To understand.

Still, his disgust with his own curiosity won out, and he let the topic die.

"Now I get to ask you a question." Sylar looked up from his hands, smirking.

"I'm sorry?" The mere notion scared Mohinder. Sylar wasn't exactly known for his conversational skills, and he certainly didn't beat around the bush when he wanted answers.

"Your nose. When I asked about it at your apartment… you never answered. What happened?"

Mohinder touched a finger to his bandaged nose gingerly; with all that had happened since, he'd forgotten he was even injured. The dull pain had become just another part of him; now he hardly noticed it.

"Oh. I—I was hit. A woman named Niki… she was… seeing things."

"Seeing things? So she hit you?" If Mohinder hadn't known better, he may have thought Sylar looked almost… _concerned_. He shook the thought from his head immediately.

"Well… there was more to it than that but… yes."

"Hm. It must hurt."

Several thoughts rushed into the doctor's mind in that instant, not the least of which being 'Yeah, no kidding.' Before he could stop himself, he heard himself replying.

"I've been hurt worse."

Sylar's eyes snapped to the doctor's own, making him feel somehow invaded, stuck. His dark eyes were searching Mohinder's, looking for something the Indian refused to let him find. He pulled his gaze away, and Sylar cleared his throat.

"…Yeah. Haven't we all?" The response was soft and almost lost in the thick tension.

Mohinder scoffed at this, shaking his head as he took another swig from his cup.

"What?" the killer scowled, his brows knitting together as he spoke.

"Nothing."

Mohinder returned his focus to the cup in his hands, hoping that the other man would just shut up and let it go. He could _feel_ that Sylar wanted to argue, even without looking at him, he knew. But, the doctor was in no mood to argue anymore… it was like all the constant running and worrying about Molly and being shot at were finally and suddenly catching up with him.

Every muscle in his body ached, and his stomach was twisted into a thousand knots. He felt so abruptly dizzy that he worried he may pass out right there where he sat. All the emotions he had tried so hard to keep under control were beginning to spill out from the cage in which he had attempted to imprison them, and as he watched the trembling of the dark brown liquid in the mug, he felt as if he was drowning in it.

In fact, he almost wished he were.

Molly. He had wanted so badly to protect her, but, instead… he'd walked her right into their hands. The guilt was almost too much… He knew he should be doing something, _anything_,but his body wouldn't allow him to. His mind was too full of guilt and frustration and more guilt that he couldn't do anything but sit and dwell on it. And, somehow, sitting and having tense conversations with a man he shouldn't be able to stand, a man he had tried (and failed) over and over and over to erase from his mind and his life completely, wasn't doing much to alleviate his guilt.

"…_haven't we all?" _

What had he meant by that? The man was clearly insane, by all accounts. It had seemed to Mohinder more of an attack than an attempt to be agreeable.

The Indian hated himself. He hated himself for being here, now, sitting across the table from the man who had murdered his father, the man who had murdered Molly's parents, the man who had murdered countless, innocent others… and he couldn't bring himself to walk away.

True, it would be pointless to try and do so. If Sylar didn't want him to leave, he wouldn't be able to. Still… when he had walked away at the gas station… what had that been? Little more than a way to fulfill the need to simply feel himself moving. He had made it out to be something it wasn't, because Sylar couldn't know. He couldn't know that Mohinder was _grateful_ he was there. He couldn't know that Mohinder's heart had jumped into his throat when he'd arrived at the hospital and saved the Indian's life. He couldn't know that the doctor's skin still burned where long, pale fingers had touched him so gently, leaving scars of memories that would forever mark him. He couldn't know that.

He had to think what Mohinder had always wanted them both to believe: that this, _them_, it was nothing. They were enemies, brought together by vengeance and mutual disdain. They were only sitting together now because leaving was not an option for the powerless doctor. There could be nothing more to it, as far as either man was concerned.

Mohinder prayed that the façade would hold up.

X X X X X

The doctor had suddenly gone quiet, leaving Sylar to watch him and wonder what had caused the change.

It was almost as if the doctor had forgotten anyone one else was around, like he had forgotten the situation he was now in. His soft brown eyes were glued to the ceramic cup in his hands, but they were completely blank. He wasn't there, in the seat across from Sylar, he was somewhere else entirely.

Telepathy would've been useful right about now.

The killer didn't like wondering what was going on in the other man's head, but he was too difficult to read. It still frustrated him to no end that this man would cause him so much grief, that this man, this ordinary man, would be so impossible to fully understand.

It wasn't supposed to be that way.

He had run over it again and again in his mind after they'd left the gas station: why _was_ he still here? Mohinder, being the sarcastic man he was, had said "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just don't want me to leave." The taller man had reacted the only way he knew how, by protecting himself and making the doctor realize just how small and weak he was. He'd blown it off, acted annoyed.

But, the doctor was right, and his words had hit Sylar hard. It was the same question he'd been pondering since he arrived back in New York after four months. Why was it so important that Mohinder be a part of all his plans? Why couldn't Sylar just let Mohinder go and deal with his own problems?

_Because_, he thought, _Mohinder couldn't handle it_.

As the words filled his mind, Sylar snapped back into the moment, realizing what he'd just revealed to himself.

_Because Mohinder couldn't handle it._

His eyes jumped back up to the doctor who still seemed to be in his own world, and felt his chest being compressed from the weight of this sudden realization.

When had it become the killer's job to protect this man? When had he taken it upon himself to insure his safety, going so far as to track him down at the Company Hospital and get into a fight with a bunch of agents just to keep him safe?

It was enough to make him sick. He needed to just get out, leave this tiny little hellhole restaurant that smelled like disinfectant and coffee and grease. Its walls were beginning to close in on him, and he was pretty sure if he didn't leave soon, he would do something stupid that would only get him, and Mohinder, unwanted attention from the Company.

"Let's go." He spat, standing quickly and pulling on his coat.

It took the other man a minute to respond, he still looked somewhat distant.

"…What?"

"We're leaving. Let's go."

He felt the Indian's eyes on him as he took several steps toward the door, but the other man didn't move. He stayed sitting, his hands still grasping the cup.

"Mohinder… Get up."

"Why are-?"

"JUST GET UP!" he hissed, feeling all his pent up frustration and confusion burst out of him and fill the entire café.

Mohinder just eyed him for a moment, looking tired and angry.

"Fine." He whispered, standing up and quickly brushing past Sylar and out the door.

Sylar closed his eyes tight against the sudden, sickening feeling that filled his entire body, and waited for it to pass before heading outside himself.

This ordinary man was starting to make him question his own definition of 'special.'

X X X X X

Mohinder stared out his window as the car sped down the interstate, trying to focus on something, anything, that would distract him from his internal dilemma.

The clouds were hanging low in the sky, darkening the world around him and threatening rain. They made the horizon so hopelessly gloomy, making the outside world match perfectly how he was feeling inside.

He wanted so badly to turn and look at the man in the driver's seat, to just reach out and touch him, feel him, but he couldn't. At the same time that he needed it, he needed to avoid it.

Contradiction was coming to rule his entire existence.

"So," Sylar's smooth, low voice cut through the silence that had filled the car all day, "Where are you right now?"

_Where are you?_

"What?" Mohinder sat up, finally turning to look at the other man who was still facing straight ahead, even as he continued.

"You're not here… You haven't been all day. Where are you?"

"Have you completely lost your mind?"

"No. I'm just wondering what it is that you've been so wrapped up in all day-" his voice was so matter of fact, and yet, Mohinder sensed that he was delving for something in particular, in a way only someone like Sylar could.

"Why do you care?"

The other man grimaced at the word 'care.' It was clear now to Mohinder that he was, indeed, curious, but didn't want that fact pointed out to him.

Shocking.

"I never said I did."

"And yet, you asked."

"Fine. I won't ask again."

The Indian watched the other man for a minute more, feeling slightly anxious and wanting to speak, but finding himself unable to do so.

He didn't have to, however, because Sylar turned and sneered at him.

"Is there something you'd like to say or are you going to stare at me like that all the way to Texas?"

Feeling emboldened by a slight onslaught of irritation, Mohinder found his words.

"I want to know what stake you have in this."

"What are you talking about?" Sylar hissed in response, rolling his eyes.

"Why are you doing this? Why do you care so much about the Company that you're willing to help Molly?"

"I don't."

His tight-lipped, evasive answers were almost too much. Was it so hard to answer?

"Tell me. Now."

"I don't have to give you an explanation, Mohinder-"

"Tell me! TELL ME WHY THE HELL YOU'RE DOING THIS!" Mohinder surprised even himself with the desperation and volume of his own words, and leaned back into his seat, closing his eyes. "…I'm sorry… I-"

"For you."

The Indian felt his heart stop and his eyes snapped back open. His breath caught in his throat and he was sure he'd heard wrong or misunderstood…

"…I'm sorry?"

"You heard me."

_**Elle and Bob Bishop**_

_Hartsdale, NY_

Bob watched as his daughter paced around her hospital room, worked up and angry.

"I can't believe you tried to have the Haitian erase my memory again." She spat, leering at him as she brushed a long strand of blond hair from her cheek.

"It was in your best interest-"

"Yeah, well… lucky me."

He groaned audibly, holding a hand to his head.

He'd come in to check on her several hours ago to find her feeling and looking better and had felt wholly relieved… only to find out she had turned the Haitian away when he'd come to help her.

"You need to lie down-"

"No." she stopped walking and turned to face him. "What I need is to get out there and find Sylar-"

"Then what? Elle, he fought against ten of our best agents and won. You're not going anywhere near him again."

"I stopped him once, I can do it again-"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this! The last time you tried that, Maya was killed. Is that what you want for yourself?"

He was able to admit that he hadn't always been the ideal father to Elle. He had always done what he felt was best for her, but yes, he had made mistakes. Even so, he couldn't bear to lose her. She was still his daughter, and he knew if she went after the serial killer alone, she would become his next victim.

The company man in him wanted to let her try, the father in him wouldn't allow that.

"Why don't you trust me, Daddy?"

"This is not about trust, Elle!"

"Then what is it?"

"We're done here," he whispered with a tone of finality. She glared at him as he turned to leave.

He hurried out the door and down the hall; Sylar had left a huge mess to clean up, and now Bob had to deal with it.

On the other side of the door, Elle stood silently and watched him leave.

"You just wait," she spoke to herself as he disappeared past the windows of the room, "I'll make you proud, Daddy."


	9. Reaction

Sorry this took so long! sigh

* * *

_**Sylar and Mohinder Suresh**_

_Somewhere along Interstate 95 _

The oxygen in the small, cramped car interior seemed to have disappeared in some sort of vacuum, and Mohinder could only stare at Sylar. Words escaped him entirely as a barrage of emotion from all sides slammed into him and fought each other for dominance over him.

Sylar was no longer looking at him, instead focusing his attention on the road before them. He was so stoic, so calm, as though the subtext of his own words had merely been an accident. Like they hadn't meant anything in particular, like they were nothing more than sounds.

Mohinder knew better. Sylar never just spoke. Every word, every pause, every accentuation of a syllable was deliberate, used carefully with the most specific of intentions.

"_For you."_

They had been terse; brief and to the point. If Mohinder had let his attention falter for even a second, he would have missed them. But, he hadn't.

And now he was lost in them. He was almost disgusted and wanted to forget them, but he simply couldn't. They swam circles in his brain, filling his consciousness completely.

He hated Sylar for having the audacity to pretend to care, then immediately trying to play it off as though he hadn't, but some sick part of him was buzzing with something he couldn't quite put his finger on, something a little less like hatred and a little more like satisfaction.

He forced himself to focus, running over thoughts on what he was going to say to Matt once they arrived in Texas and trying not to let his mind fall on that indefinable feeling.

However, it only lasted so long before the words '_for you'_ rang through his head once again, and he immediately felt lost on how to handle the situation. And, it _was_ a situation.

"I—"

"You don't have to say anything." Sylar interrupted sharply.

Mohinder hadn't really wanted to say anything, but he could only take painfully awkward silence for so long before he started to feel anxious.

"But—" Again, the normally articulate man found himself stumbling over words, his mind completely unable to piece together any form of coherent sentence. Luckily for him, Sylar interrupted again, this time speaking in a deadly serious tone.

"Don't say anything."

His overt defensiveness was not lost on Mohinder who, at first feeling himself tense at the voice he had trained himself to fear, now found himself amused. This man, this _monster_ of a man had said something… human.

In spite of himself, he smiled. Ever aware, Sylar noticed and frowned, clearly vexed.

"What?" he spat, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel as his grip tightened.

Mohinder forced himself to stop smiling and shrugged, looking out his own window to avoid making eye contact.

"Nothing."

He focused intently on passing trees, but felt himself smile again.

It was an almost foreign sensation; he could hardly remember the last time he'd been able to smile about anything, let alone the man beside him. And, for a second, he didn't worry about right or wrong, didn't try and guilt himself into a forced scowl, didn't try to reason with himself over why he was smiling in the first place, he just let it happen.

For a second, he felt relieved.

"What?" Sylar demanded once more, his voice louder and more insistent than before.

Mohinder shook his head, but Sylar continued to glare at him. A short time before, Mohinder may have been concerned for his life, but at the moment, he was too amused to be scared.

"Don't sound so concerned."

"Concerned?" Sylar scoffed, returning his eyes to the road. "Don't confuse an otherwise endless stint of boredom with concern."

"You know, you'd really be more convincing if you let it go, Sylar."

Mohinder paused briefly as dark eyes met his own and he became suddenly aware of who it was he was talking to, but relaxed when the other man _laughed_.

Immediately, there was oxygen in the car once more. Mohinder felt himself smiling more broadly now as the tension and anxiety that had filled the space between them gradually lifted and dissipated.

They'd been so caught up in the severity of their own lives, each allowing himself to fall into the part written for him. But, the show had lasted only so long before they'd slipped up again, tripping over themselves and falling into each other.

Of course, the spotlight of reality had found them once again, forcing them back into the act. Sylar returned to being the cold-blooded killer, cutting Maya's scenes short, and Mohinder had returned to being the cautious scientist, putting forth all his energy into creating a convincing character, to the point of almost losing the plot of the story still moving around him.

But now, things seemed… lighter. Of course, they weren't what Mohinder would describe as 'good,' by any means. But, just being able to smile at all, even for an instant, proved helpful in loosening the ever-present knot in his stomach.

He glanced over at Sylar once more, letting his eyes wander across the man's profile. He still looked to be smiling. _That smile_. That smile that had haunted Mohinder's thoughts and dreams for months, the smile in which he had lost himself over and over when it had belonged to the man he knew as Zane.

Was it, he wondered now, a portion of what had been real about him? Had that smile, that desire to know and please been completely fabricated? Or did parts of Zane still linger in Sylar somewhere? Had parts of Zane been real parts of the man they had been intended to disguise?

"This is almost like—" he started, catching himself before he could finish. He hadn't consciously intended to say a thing, he'd just started speaking.

"What?" Sylar asked, his tone urging Mohinder to continue, even though it was clear he was trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

Mohinder could go on; he could walk himself right into that trap. But, what would it do? He shouldn't have said anything in the first place, he shouldn't have wanted to. Any sane person would be sitting in the passenger's seat brooding, not dwelling on a past that had no place in the present. It had no place at all, but certainly not here, not now.

Still, he wondered. How would Sylar react? Would he react at all..?

"I was just thinking… just then, you reminded me of…" he paused again, stealing another glance at Sylar before continuing, his voice slightly hushed, "you reminded me of Zane."

The car swerved suddenly, narrowly missing being crushed by a speeding 18-wheeler in the lane beside them. The smell of burning rubber filled Mohinder's senses as he pressed his hand to the window beside him, trying to keep some sort of balance.

"What the hell was that?" he snapped, glaring across at the other man as he held tightly to the wheel, righting the car then starting to pull over, directing the wheels over a small, gravel-laden strip just off the road.

"What are you doing?" Mohinder demanded, straightening in his seat, his voice rising with each word. "Why are you-?"

"I reminded you of _Zane_?" Sylar unclipped his seatbelt, tossing it harshly behind him and he turned to face Mohinder, his face twisted with anger. "_Zane_ was not real, Mohinder._ Zane_ was a means to an end. You can't be reminded of something that never existed-!"

"Whom are you trying to convince, _Gabriel_? Me or you?"

Sylar said nothing for a long moment. He merely stared back at Mohinder, looking more vulnerable than Mohinder could ever remember him looking. He looked caught, as though all his gifts, abilities and intelligence alike, had suddenly failed him.

"I told you… Gabriel—"

"I know what you told me, Sylar… I also know that you think I bought that what you said earlier had no meaning, and for some reason I can not comprehend, you actually think I'll let it go!"

"If you know what's good for you-"

"Oh god, Sylar. Are you going to threaten me again? Another empty threat to protect yourself from whatever it is you're so afraid of?! Isn't it getting rather old?" Mohinder scoffed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Again, Sylar just stared back.

It was unnerving not having him fire right back with snide comments, but Mohinder didn't let his gaze waver. He wasn't one to back down in an argument with anyone, it simply wasn't his nature. Sure, it was likely to get him killed one day, but that didn't change things.

Other cars flew past, creating wakes which caused their own vehicle to shiver and shake. The noise was almost distracting, and Mohinder imagined it was only one hundred times worse for the man across from him.

Still, when he spoke, he found he could no longer raise his voice above a whisper.

"You can't just say things like that and expect people to forget it-"

"People?" Sylar's eyebrow raised and he half-smiled, forcing Mohinder to tug his own shirt cuff with uneasiness.

"…_me_. You can't expect _me_ to just forget it..."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Mohinder began to panic as he felt all the confidence and eloquence he'd had just a moment before begin to melt away, leaving only apprehension and a too-quickly-beating heart.

_What have I gotten myself in to..?_

"Because why?"

"Because," Mohinder breathed, reaching out with a hesitant hand and brushing the other man's face, "you just can't."

The skin beneath his fingertips seemed alight with unnatural warmth, and Sylar's eyes widened for an instant, a million questions swimming behind them before he lifted his own hand and touched the dark skin of Mohinder's.

Mohinder once again felt himself smiling as his body buzzed with the touch, and he snaked his hand though Sylar's dark hair and let it rest on the back of his head for a moment before pulling him closer and pressing hungry lips to his.

In an instant, all remaining pretenses were burned away and they pressed themselves as close together as they could in the inhibiting, uncomfortable space. Mohinder felt Sylar's arms encasing him as their mouths continued probing each other and melted easily into them.

Each man panted into the other, trying to breathe without having to give up tasting the other. Mohinder's hands remained in Sylar's hair, raking and stroking; appreciating the mere feeling of it.

Eventually, Sylar's lips broke free from the kiss, and trailed their way down Mohinder's neck, sending electric jolts running up and down his spine. He moaned, resting his head against Sylar's shoulder and reveling in the feeling of Sylar's hot mouth on his skin.

After a moment, Sylar stopped. Mohinder shifted slightly and looked at him, pouting at the loss. The other man grinned, rubbing his thumb across a caramel jaw line.

"…you okay?"

It was Mohinder's turn to grin, and he flashed his most assuring smile, sending dark curls flying with his insistent nod.

"Yes."

He moved closer, once again capturing Sylar's lips with his own.

_Yes. _For once, he allowed himself to be okay. It wasn't manipulation, it wasn't an accident, it wasn't a way to momentarily forget about 'reality,' it was a choice. His choice.

And it was okay.


End file.
